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WHO SEEKS ME HERE IN MY LONELINESS? — (Page I 55.) 







HILDA 

OR 




GOD LEADETH. 


A 




By FRANZ HOFFMAN. 


£ran3lateb from ifje Oermatt 


M. P. BUTCHER. 




LA 19 A h 

No. ua& n 


v OF* \A/4SH'^ 

PHILADELPHIA: 

LUTHERAN PUBLICATION SOCIETY. 
1882. 





COPYRIGHT: 

LUTHERAN PUBLICATION SOCIETY. 

1882. 


INQUIRER P. & P. CO., 
STEREOTYPERS AND PRINTERS, 
LANCASTER, PA. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. PAGE. 

Traveling Singers 7 

CHAPTER II. 

“ Whoso receiveth a little child in my name, re- 

CEIVETH ME.” 42 

CHAPTER III. 

On the Journey. 72 

CHAPTER IV. 

A Refuge 102 

CHAPTER V. 

A Grandfather 120 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Temptation 137 


( 5 ) 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VII. ' pack 

An Old Prayer-book 152 

CHAPTER VIII. 

“ I will Repay, saith the Lord.” 185 


HILDA. 


CHAPTER FIRST. 

TRAVELING SINGERS. 

M ASSES of gray clouds covered the sky, and 
the rain fell in torrents. A heavy mist en- 
veloped the whole landscape, through which the 
unfortunate traveler could distinguish only the 
nearest objects ; and a violent wind rushed, 
moaning incessantly, over the wide plain, catch- 
ing the tops of solitary trees, and stripping them 
of the few leaves which the merciless Autumn 
had left upon them. The street, or rather road, 
a simple connecting link between the scattered 
villages of the broad heath, was almost impass- 
able, being covered with deep, dangerous-looking 
tracks, filled with muddy water ; here and there 
great hollows like little lakes overflowed even 
these, and the path was almost indiscernible. A 
( 7 ) 


8 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


dreary road, and one sad to travel in such dis- 
mal weather. 

In spite of all these disadvantages, a little 
wagon, drawn by a single horse, wearily and 
toilsomely moved along the road. It appeared 
to be heavily-laden, and presented a curious 
sight. A gray awning covered the top, and 
concealed most of its contents; but here and 
there, both before and behind* wooden poles 
peeped out, clothed in colored stuffs that were 
soaked with rain, and beyond all recognition of 
their original design. They were roughly painted, 
but in bright, glaring colors, and perhaps in 
times past had been intended to represent trees, 
bushes, houses, and different apartments in the 
last; but it would require a skillful and prac- 
tised eye to distinguish a mass of rock from the 
group of trees, or the outside of a house from 
one of the rooms ; for in many places the color 
had been washed away, and the design was cer- 
tainly not that of an experienced artist. 

In the fore part of the wagon, between the 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


9 


masses of rumpled drapery, sat a man with black 
beard, and tangled hair, dressed in threadbare 
garments that afforded only slight protection 
against the inclemency of the weather. He 
leaned back, and kept as far as possible under 
the cover, but could not prevent himself from 
being deluged now and then with a shower of 
rain, as a turn in the road brought his wagon in 
the face of the wind. 

Then he frowned darkly, and with an impa- 
tient exclamation shook himself like a spaniel. 
He held the whip and reins, and would beat the 
poor horse unmercifully if it stopped but a mo- 
ment on the soaked highway to breathe and 
regain a little strength. The worn-out animal 
did his best, but could hardly stand. Again and 
again, with a faint show of spirit, he started for- 
ward at the crack of the whip and the rough call 
of his master, and struggled bravely through the 
mire and mud, that covered his body and legs 
with a thick crust which even the pouring rain 
could not wash off At length he stood still be- 


10 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


fore a wide yellow lake, and neither whip nor 
shouting could urge him one step onward. He 
drew his shoulders up painfully at each stroke of 
the whip, but stood still, and only shook his wet 
ears as though he would say : “ No, no ! Thus 
far and no farther ! I can do no more than is 
possible ! ” 

“ Get on ! ” shrieked the driver from his wet 
seat, and struck the poor exhausted animal still 
more furiously. “ Forward ! forward ! If we can 
only reach the other side of this mire, and get 
over the hill, the road will be better after that, 
and it is but a half hour to the village. For- 
ward, Kleo ! Forward! Just one more effort, 
and you will reach a stable, and have as much 
oats as you can eat.” 

The little bay horse pricked up his ears,, cer- 
tainly, at the sound of “oats,” as though he really 
understood ; yet, nevertheless, he stirred not from 
the spot. He made one feeble attempt to push 
forward, but seemed to feel that it was useless, 
and, drooping his head, he stood sadly as before, 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


while a violent gust of wind drenched the driver 
with a fresh shower of rain, that naturally did not 
improve his ill humor. 

“Truly, this is a dog’s life!” he growled 
wrathfully. “ And even worse, for a dog in his 
kennel has it better than this ; he can at least 
keep warm and dry, and find something to eat. 
But we cannot stay here. Get up, Kleo ! For- 
ward !” 

* 

Again v the whip cracked, and heavily the 
blows came down on the thin back of the un- 
fortunate beast. He started — the mud splashed 
under his hoofs; dirt and water flew into the 
wagon, as the wheels creaked, and forward they 
went — but alas ! after a half a dozen steps the 
poor creature again stood still, and turned his 
head sorrowfully, as though making a pitiful 
appeal for mercy to his cruel master. But no 
mercy was there ; lashing himself into yet wilder 
fury, he again used the whip ; the animal stood 
another beating patiently ; his master might have 
seen that he could go no farther, had not his 


12 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


rage blinded him to everything but the fact that 
they were making no progress in their journey. 
The limit of its strength was reached. 

“ Let him rest a little, Jonathan,” said a soft 
feminine voice now from the inner depths of the 
wagon. “ Poor Kleo ! he can go no farther. 
We have already traveled five hours in the 
storm on this fearful road. Let him rest at 

least a half hour, then he will be a little re- 

* 

freshed, and able to carry us on.” 

“ It is well for you to talk,” returned the man 
in sullen tones. “You are under shelter, sitting 
on soft dry straw. But I — with this horrible 
storm — I am wet to the skin, even to my bones, 
and my limbs are stiff with the icy cold. We 
must go on ! We are not a half hour’s ride 
from the village, and that far the unreasonable 
Kleo must hold out. Go on, Kleo ! forward !” 

But Kleo did not stir ; with drooping head he 
stood, and whip and shout exercised their 
habitual work in vain. 

“Stop! oh pray stop, Jonathan!” called out 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


13 


the gentle voice entreatingly from within the 
wagon, as the man beat the horse with increased 
passion. “We will rather get out and wade 
through the morass till we reach solid ground. 
Only think, if we should lose poor Kleo, what a 
misfortune that would be to us ! How could we 
get another horse ? And how should we be 
able to travel without a horse ? No, do not be 
angry, Jonathan; you cannot push the animal 
beyond his strength.” 

The sensible persuasion of the woman seemed 
to make some impression on the angry driver. 
He stopped beating the horse, and turned his face 
towards the interior of the wagon. 

“You are right, Kathinka,” he answered, “but 
this morass stretches out far before us — at least 
five hundred paces — and you will be soaking wet 
before you are through.” 

“ Oh, that is nothing,” answered the voice,” for 
we are already wet — the cover has not been much 
protection during the last heavy showers ; so the 
sooner we reach the village the better, for then 


2 


H 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


we can dry our clothes. Let us get out now, 
and walk over the hill. Kleo can take us the 
rest of the way.” 

“ Well, then, step out. For my part,” grumbled 
the man, “ I cannot become more soaked than I 
already am, so I might as well be out of the 
wagon as in it.” 

As he spoke, he sprang into the morass, which 
reached above his knees. Signs of life now ap- 
peared within the wagon. A slender, pale woman 
of perhaps thirty years came first. Heavy brown 
hair lay in soft chestnut waves on her temples, 
and her large, sad-looking eyes were of the same 
color. Despite the lines engraved by poverty 
and distress, her countenance still bore traces of 
former beauty ; but a restless, wandering life had 
exhausted her strength, and she looked weak and 
delicate. Her clothing was as thin and scanty as 
that of Jonathan, her husband: a crushed look- 
ing hat, a threadbare black mantle, and a faded 
cotton dress that had been mended in many 
places, besides coarse woolen stockings, and 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


15 


shabby, well-worn boots, constituted her whole 
attire. She took off her shoes and stockings be- 
fore she descended, and jumped without assist- 
ance into the mud. “ Come, now,” she called 
back into the wagon, “ the water is not as deep as 
it looks, and we are already wading through it. 
Wake up, Hans ! And, Hilda, reach Kurt out to 
me ; I will carry the poor little fellow under my 
mantle, and keep him as dry as I can.” 

As she spoke, a young man of about eighteen 
sprang out, followed by a young girl, holding in 
her arms a boy three or four years old, who fear- 
lessly looked out into the storm with bright and 
clear blue eyes ; flaxen curls clustered over his 
head, and his glowing face reminded one of a 
half-opened rosebud. He clung fast to the young 
girl, as though he did not wish to leave her, but 
she chided him kindly. “You must let go, 
Kurt,” she said, with a voice so gentle and sweet 
that it sounded like a strain of music, “ else I 
cannot jump out of the wagon ; see, if we should 
attempt to go together, we would both, fall in the 


1 6 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

mud. Then we would look well, indeed ! Go, 
for only a minute, to Aunt Kathinka. She will 
cover you with her cloak, and keep you warm 
and dry. Go, my pet.” 

The little boy could not resist the spell of her 
voice. He wound both arms still more tenderly 
around the young girl’s neck, then loosed them, 
and stretched out his hands towards the older 
woman, who received him with motherly solici- 
tude, and carefully covered him with her mantle, 
so that the rude winds could not touch him. 

Now the young girl stepped lightly out, and 
glanced undismayed at the certainly not very en- 
couraging prospect. She seemed scarcely sixteen 
years of age, with a face and figure so beautiful 
that not even the wretched garments she wore 
had power to conceal or spoil. Her expression 
was loving, bright, and innocent as a spring 
flower, and contentment smiled from her red lips 
and shone from her dark blue eyes. She also, 
like Kathinka, went barefoot, in order to save her 
shoes — the only pair she possessed ; and bravely, 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


7 


with the others, she struggled through the 
morass as fast as possible. But first she stood 
for a moment beside Kleo, and patted the poor 
animal caressingly on the neck. “ Good Kleo ! 
You have gone through much to-day,” she said 
in her silvery tones that always reached the 
heart, “ Is it not well that I still have some 
bread left from breakfast! You shall have it. 
There, eat, Kleo; I hope it tastes good. Yes, 
I know it is refreshing.” She had taken a slice 
of coarse, black bread from her pocket, broken 
it in pieces, and held them out to the weary 
and half-famished horse. Hungrily he ate them, 
and a gentle neigh of gratitude spoke his appre- 
ciation of her kindness. 

“ Come, Hilda, hasten !” now called the woman,, 
who had meanwhile gone on; “let Jonathan feed 
the horse. If you stand so long in the water 
you will take cold, and become hoarse, and then 
farewell to a good entertainment in the village.. 
And no money in our pockets ! Come !” 

“ Oh, I will not take cold,” laughed the girl, 
2 * 


1 8 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

and began to sing in a clear voice through the 
rain wind, the first notes of a pretty little song ; 
but stopped soon, and said, “ Kleo must have 
his bread ; then I will come.” The food did not 
hold out long, for the piece of bread was not 
very large, and Kleo’s mouthfuls not small ; in 
less than two minutes he had finished his repast, 
and neighed once more in a satisfied manner, as 
Hilda again softly stroked his neck. 

With light steps she hastened after the others, 
who were still in the midst of the morass, over- 
took them, and in a short time stood at the foot 
of the hill, over which the way led to the 
nearest village. Here the ground was firmer 
beneath their feet, and they waited now for 
Kleo to come up. 

“ Come, Kleo ! come !” called Hilda, coaxingly. 
The spell of her lovely voice, or the short pause 
of rest and refreshment, or perhaps both, seemed 
to have the right effect; for Kleo had scarcely 
heard the call ere he drew himself up, splashed 
with a quick trot through the mud and water, 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


19 


and without the aid of Jonathan’s voice or whip, 
soon drew the wagon onward to where the party- 
waited. Hilda took the bridle and led him easily 
over the hill, whose highest point was reached in 
a very few minutes. 

“ Now we are sheltered, and the worst lies 
behind us, good Kleo,” said Hilda, clapping her 
hands with pleasure. “ See, old fellow, there is 
the church steeple above the bushes yonder; 
and several red roofs already shining through 
the mist and rain. From here it is all down 
hill till we reach the end of our journey, so it 
will be much easier now. Give Kurt to me and 
climb into the wagon again, Aunt Kathinka! 
Mount, Hans ; I will come in last ; there ! are 
you settled ? Then shall I hand you my pretty 
boy ; now I will come. We are all ready, Uncle 
Jonathan ; and now,” she reverentially added, 
“ God grant that we may go on smoothly. 
Tramp, you dear horse, tramp, tramp, tramp! 
The stable is not far off now.” 

The last words she sang out in loud musical 


20 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

tones; the horse started, the wagon rolled for- 
ward, the wind and storm seemed nothing now 
in the near prospect of shelter, rest, and re- 
freshment. But it was not quite so easy as it 
seemed to run their little barque out of the sea 
of storm into the safe calm of the harbor before 
them. 

“Halt!” said Jonathan, “halt,Kleo! We have 
reached the goal. Here is the inn of the ‘ Little 
Lamb/ where we will pitch our tent.” 

Kleo obeyed instantly, and with evident satis- 
faction. He stood motionless. 

But Jonathan had not yet dismounted from 
the wagon, or even laid down the reins, when 
the form of a heavy, broad-shouldered man 
appeared, dressed in a peasant jacket, and wear- 
ing a gray cap upon his head. He planted him- 
self before the wagon, and looked insolently 
under the cover. “ Hey there, what is all this ?” 
he called out in rough tones. “ You look like 
traveling acting folks ; what do you want here ? 
Eh?” 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


21 


“ We would like to take lodgings with you, 
Herr Innkeeper, if you please,” answered Jona- 
than, very meekly and humbly. “ For at least a 
fortnight we would like to remain with you, and 
it will certainly be no loss to you. Let me first 
get out and take my horse to the stable ; then we 
can talk further.” 

“ Not so fast ! do not attempt it ! ” answered 
the innkeeper, as rudely as before. “A regular 
pack of actors ! Do you think- I cannot see the 
poles and the colored curtains sticking out before 
and behind ? I have no lodgings in my house 
for such as you. Travel on ! I want nothing to 
do with you.” 

“ But, Herr Landlord,” said Jonathan entreat- 
ingly, “ Think of the weather, and the poor horse 
— he is quite worn out. No ! You surely will not 
be so cruel as to turn us from your door in a 
storm into which it is not fit for a dog to venture.” 

“ Cruel or not, I will not let myself be taken 
in by such people as you,” was the landlord’s 
cold reply. “ Have^you money to pay for your 


22 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

lodgings ? If so, you can stay ; if not, begone ! 
Yonder is the road, and the world is wide. For 
my part, I do not care if you are out on the high- 
way all night, so you do not stay with me.” 

“ But my poor horse can go no farther. Look 
at him now !” returned Jonathan, earnestly. 
“ You must keep us here, Herr Landlord, for 
just a single night!” 

“Not for a night; not for a day; not for an 
hour, unless you pay me first for what you will 
use,” said the innkeeper. “ So either show me 
your money, or go at once, for I cannot stand 
out here in the rain any longer ! Say quickly, 
have you money or not ?” 

Jonathan shrugged his shoulders ; money was 
just the thing he had not; and his only hope of 
raising it was by giving an entertainment in the 
village. Now it seemed that all his prospects 
were to be spoiled by this hard-hearted land- 
lord, who would not allow him to stay at his 
inn long enough even to earn money to pay 
for their lodgings. Perplexed and discomfited, 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


23 


he cast down his eyes, and looked completely 
discouraged. He knew not what next to do or 
say to soften the heart of this greedy innkeeper. 
In the pause that followed the landlord’s last 
speech, while Jonathan still in vain racked his 
brain for a new plea in their favor, Hilda sud- 
denly moved out from under the cover of the 
wagon, and stood before the innkeeper, who, 
struck by her unexpected appearance and great 
loveliness, stepped backward, and stared in 
wonder. 

“ How,” cried Hilda, with flashing eyes and 
glowing cheeks, “ can you call yourself a Chris- 
tian man, Herr Innkeeper, and yet are not 
ashamed to deny the shelter of your roof to 
destitute people in such weather as this ? Is 
this the brotherly love that the dear God has 
bidden us practice one to another? If you 
close your doors against us, surely we will find 
one opened to us elsewhere; for there must be 
some compassionate hearts in this village ! But 
you can plainly see we are at present able to go 


24 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

no farther, and if you will not let us come under 
shelter, we must spend the night out in this 
pouring rain, under the open stormy sky. For 
the last time, I pray you, take us in. Will you 
do so or not ?” 

In spite of the bad weather, the dispute before 
the inn and the loud, angry voice of the land- 
lord had drawn to the spot a little crowd of 
people. They stood around the wagon, and cast 
scornful looks at the miserable little group. As 
long as the landlord treated only with Jonathan, 
they showed by their manners and gestures that 
they approved of his rough dismissal of the poor 
acting people ; but on the appearance of Hilda, 
a murmur of pity ran through the crowd, and 
even the hard manners of the innkeeper softened 
as he looked at the young girl, who with her 
beautiful angry countenance came like an accus- 
ing spirit before them. 

“Well,” he said at length, “ if I could only feel 
sure that you would be able to pay but half of 
what I receive from other people, I might do 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


25 


something for your sake, young lady ; but to take 
in strange people, bag and baggage, knowing 
they have no money, is a little more than one 
can expect.” 

“ The good Lord would not let you suffer loss 
for helping those who are in want,” answered 
Hilda, boldly, and not in the least intimidated ; 
“ and you really would fun no risk of receiv- 
ing your pay ; for though it is true we are poor 
singers, and have nothing at present, yet we will 
be able, by giving an entertainment in the largest 
barn that we can obtain, to receive money enough 
to more than discharge our debt.” 

The landlord still hesitated, but the people who 
stood around were all favorably impressed by the 
young girl’s remarks. 

“ She is right ! ” said one of the crowd. “ Let 
them stay here and have their entertainment ! It 
is a good one : I saw it once in the town.” 

“ Yes ! stay here and play the piece,” sounded 
now from another. “We will go to see it! 
Take them in, Stephen! It is fearful weather; 

3 


26 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

the poor people can really go no farther, and the 
night is coming on.” 

“ It is easy for you to talk ! ” cried the keeper 
of the house. “You will lose nothing when 
after a while these beggars clear out.” 

“ We are not beggars,” said Hilda to the rude 
man, “ we are honest people who earn our living 
by honest means, and have never yet deceived 
any one. Besides, to balance our debt with you, 
though we have no money, there is the horse 
and wagon, and you may take them if we can- 
not pay you ; but that will not happen, I hope.” 

“If you only had but half the money!” said 
the landlord, still plainly in doubt whether it was 
best for him to take in the band of comedians or 
not. “No! no! it will not do! You must 
travel farther, people. You cannot stay here!” 
At this last harsh refusal Hilda’s spirits de- 
serted her. She clasped her hands together, 
and the tears came into her eyes. 

“ Oh ! this is too hard !” now said a sturdy 
peasant, whose heart was touched by the friend- 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


2 7 


lessness of the poor child. “ The people can- 
not go on in such weather, and it would be an 
everlasting disgrace to the whole village if we 
could allow them to be thus pitilessly driven out. 
I will be responsible, Herr Stephen, for the pay- 
ment, but you must take them in for to-night. 
They shall have at least one night’s rest. So 
get out of your wagon, good folks ; if the worst 
does happen, it will only be throwing a few 
dollars out of the window.” 

“ That is well said, Conrad,” now chimed in 
several other voices ; “ we too, will stand for 
them. Take the people in, Stephen, and let us 
for once have an entertainment in our village.” 

The turning tide in their favor reached also 
the rough landlord, now that his pocket-book 
-was in no danger, and he too began to be quite 
friendly. “ Well, if you mean it then, so it shall 
be,” he said, “but you are responsible, Conrad, 
and you, Peter, and Schulze ! I will not be 
laughed at behind my back for being taken in 
by the first soft voice that comes along.” 


28 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

“ Yes, yes, yes !” cried the peasants together; 
and Hilda hastened to him who had first spoken, 
and seized his hard brown hand in hers. 

“ I cannot tell you how much I thank you, but 
God will reward you for your merciful words,” 
she said in her musical tones, that trembled with 
agitation, and won the hearts of all the rough 
peasants. “You shall not be deceived, kind 
people; we will give you our best programme, 
and I hope you will not be sorry for having 
stood by us.” 

“ No, indeed ! we shall not be sorry,” answered 
the peasant, kindly; “but hasten, and let us see 
you at once under shelter, for you are quite wet, 
and your poor horse looks as if he could hardly 
stand. Poor fellow ! How his ears droop ! 
I will see that he has a couple of bags of oats.” • 

“ How good you are ! I am very grateful to 
you ! ” cried Hilda so heartily, and smiled on the 

old peasant so sweetly that the others envied him, 

* 

and would willingly have given something to re- 
ceive for themselves such a glance. 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


2 9 


“ I will send you in a few eggs, so that you 
may have something warm to eat,” said one. 
“And I a couple of sausages,” said another; 
“And I a piece of ham ! ” cried a third ; “ I, a bag 
of potatoes,” said a fourth; and Hilda clapped 
her hands with pleasure, and her face grew so 
bright at their good fortune, that they already felt 
more than repaid for their kindness. 

“ I thank you ! Oh many times I thank you 
all ! ” she cried, bowing gratefully to the peasants. 
Then she moved quickly to the wagon ; lifted out 
the little Kurt, and assisted the pale Kathinka to 
alight ; and at last entered the inn, while Jona- 
than and Hans unharnessed the horse, and took 
him to the stable. 

It was pretty soon evident that the peasants 
had not made bare, empty speeches. The gentle 
manner of Hilda must have made a great impres- 
sion on them, for, before the little party had be- 
come settled in the rooms which the landlord had 
assigned them, came one messenger after another, 
and all with well-filled hands. Oats, eggs, milk, 
3 * 


30 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


bacon, sausages, ham, bread, butter and cheese 
were brought, and so abundantly, that Frau 
Kathinka said they could all live upon their pro- 
visions for a week at least, without spending a 
penny. The landlord, too, began to show more 
kindly interest in the wayfarers. Hilda’s bright, 
brave courage had softened his heart. He cer- 
tainly had not given them his best guest-cham- 
bers, but he had taken care that the beds pro- 
vided for them were good and comfortable, 
though the rooms were extremely small. 

About an hour after their arrival, he visited the 
travelers in their apartments, and now perceived 
that they had scarely room to turn around in 
their close quarters ; and felt something like 
shame when Hilda heartily thanked him for his 
scantily-fulfilled hospitality. 

“ But, odds ! ” he answered, “ I see the comfort 
you will have here is not much to lose silver 
over ! No ! This must be differently arranged. 
You cannot all crowd together in these narrow 
little closets. I have several other rooms still 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


31 


empty. Come, then, little lady, and choose 
which you will ; you shall have it, and I will not 
charge you a halfpenny more for it. So come 
along.” 

Hilda was well pleased to accompany him, for 
they certainly were very much crowded in the 
two “ closets,” as the landlord himself had called 
them. The beds filled up the greater part of the 
rooms ; a couple of boxes, containing various 
articles belonging to the party, and the kettles, 
dishes, bowls, and platters which held the gifts of 
the good countiy people, blocked up every avail- 
able space. One could hardly take a step with- 
out treading upon something, and it was utterly 
impossible to bring anything like order out of the 
general confusion. Now the innkeeper took 
Hilda by the hand and led her upstairs to a beau- 
tiful room on the floor above. It was hand- 
somely furnished ; the bedstead and bureaus were 
of carved wood, a fine wardrobe stood on one 
side, and mirrors in gilt frames adorned the walls. 
Curtains hung before the windows, and a large 


32 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

tree pressed its naked branches close against the 
panes, through which one could see plainly the 
little village, and the church-spire gleaming in 
the distance. 

“ Aunt Kathinka and her husband shall have 
this room,” said Hilda, charmed with the happy 
change in her surroundings. “ Hans can stay 
very well in the stable, and the lower rooms are 
more than enough for little Kurt and me. In- 
deed,” she added, as she beheld an ominous 
change in the expression of the landlord, “ Herr 
Landlord, I am very hardy, and have often slept 
on a bed of straw in a barn.” 

“Oho! nothing of the kind! That is not at 
all what I intend,” answered the innkeeper 
“ The others will stay below, and this room is to 
be yours. What do I care for that man and his 
wife ! I do this to make it better for you ; the 
others are nothing to me.” 

“ Please listen ! the poor woman is so weak 
and exhausted,” pleaded Hilda. “ I know it 
will make her well again to come into such a 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


33 


pretty room as this. For me it does not matter; 
I am young and healthy, and can put up any- 
where. Good Herr Landlord, grant me this 
favor; only let Aunt Kathinka have this room 
while we stay with you.” 

The landlord was not convinced; it did not 
seem quite right to him, but what could he do ? 
The fair young girl with her charming ways 
coaxed him over to her side, and he finally said : 
“ Well, have it your own way ; there is room in 
the next chamber for another bed, and a crib for 
the little curly-head, so you three may remain 
together ; but the man shall not come up here : 
it is good enough for him below. I do not like 
the looks of that Jonathan, as he calls himself; 
is he your father ?” 

“ Oh no,” said Hilda, with a little sigh ; “ I am 

only a poor waif that has known neither mother 

nor father, as far back as I can remember. I 

have no claim on any one in the whole world, 

and no one to take my part, except perhaps 

Kathinka, who has never been harsh or unkind 
C 


34 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

to me, but instead, has often wept with me, and 
tried to comfort me, and console me.” 

“ Console you ! for what ? — wept ! over what ?” 
asked the landlord in gentle tones. “ Have you 
already in your young life suffered distress ?” 

“Ah, worse than that,” said Hilda. “ You are 
right, Herr; Jonathan is not a good man, and 
has often beaten me — beaten me, so that I have 
cried out with pain. Hunger and cold afflict 
one sorely enough; but it is far worse to be 
treated with harshness and cruelty.” 

“ Poor child ! poor child !” said the landlord, 
compassionately, “why then do you stay with 
these people ? Why not leave them ? It would 
be well if some kind Christian heart could be 
found to take you from them and protect you.” 

“Where, indeed, could I go, Herr?” asked 
the girl. “ I know no one ; no one knows me. 
Since my old nurse died, I stand entirely alone.” 

“ What old nurse ?” 

“ My good old Dorothy ; she was always kind 
and loving towards me.” 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


35 


“ Was she your mother, or a relative ?” 

“ She was not my mother ; I cannot even say 
whether she was related to me. She was al- 
ways known to me as Nurse Dorothy. My 
dear, dear nurse ! She knew more about me 
than I could ever discover, and many a time 
would utter vague mysterious speeches, that I 
could not understand, that for some especial 
reason it was necessary for me to remain in con- 
cealment. But she became suddenly very ill — so 
ill that she died in an hour ; and then, before she 
died, she seemed very anxious to tell me some- 
thing, but her tongue was paralyzed, and she 
never spoke again. So her secret, if there really 
was one, is buried with her, and who knows of 
what importance it might be to me ?” 

“ Hem ! certainly no one can tell that. But 
how came you with Jonathan ? What have you 
to do with such a man ?” 

“ Oh, that is easily explained. Nurse Dorothy 
and I lived at the time of her death in a little 
town on the border of Poland. After she was 


36 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

gone, the register clerk came and looked through 
her property. He did not find much, only a few 
necessary household articles, her simple wardrobe, 
and her savings of a few dollars. My good nurse 
was poor, and she earned the little we needed to 
live on, by the labor of her hands — by fine 
needle-work and embroidery — she could em- 
broider beautifully. Now that she was dead, the 
clerk did not know what to do with me. Jona- 
than was then in the town, playing comedy with 
his little company. He heard of me, sought me, 
and found me with the people who had for the 
present taken the orphaned, homeless child into 
their cottage; he begged the clerk to give me 
into his charge, and promised to receive and care 
for me as a father. I think they were all glad to 
get rid of me, for no one made any objections; 
and I was given over into Jonathan’s hands, with- 
out further conditions, save the single admonition 
that he should behave towards me in a humane 
and Christian manner. So I came away with the 
actors, and though but a little child of seven 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


37 


years, was taught to play little roles. So have I 
remained until now. Frau Kathinka has always 
been good to me, but Jonathan has held lightly 
with his conscience the promise to care for me as 
a father. He has treated me horribly, and has 
often struck me without the slightest occasion, 
when he has been in an ill-humor, and that was 
whenever things went wrong with him, which 
they often did, or he had not money in his pocket 
to supply him with drink ; but now, since I have 
become old enough to think for myself, I do not 
allow him to treat me thus any longer. I have 
told him that I would run away if he still treated 
me so harshly, and he knows well that I really 
mean it. But, at its best, it is a sad, miserable 
life that we lead, and I would a hundred times 
rather be the least servant in a respectable house, 
than decked off in tinsel and gaudy finery, to 
play comedy before the people. Yes, through 
many sad days have we lived, and only God 
knows whether there are better or worse ones 
waiting for us in the future.” 

4 


38 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

“ But why do you not leave them ?” said the 
innkeeper. “ A modest, bright, and clever girl, 
as you seem to be, could easily find a situation.” 

“ Not so easily as you think, Herr Landlord. 
People all have a prejudice against the poor, 
homeless, traveling actors, and no one will will- 
ingly take them into their houses. What do 
they know of me ? Why should they think me 
better than the rest, when no one can read the 
heart? Besides, there is little Kurt! With my 
whole heart I love the helpless child; what 
would become of him without me? Frau 
Kathinka is too weak and sickly to take care 
of him, and Jonathan, I know, would not onl)* 
neglect him, but consider him a burden. How 
then would the little one fare ?” 

“A burden! is it not his own child?” 

“ No ; Jonathan was obliged to take him when 
his mother died. That, too, was a sad time ; his 
mother was the sister of Kathinka, and played 
also with a troupe of actors, till she became sick, 
and could no longer go upon the stage; then 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 


39 


she wrote in great distress to Frau Kathinka, 
and begged her to take the little one if she 
should die ; and soon after she died. Then, 
although Jonathan strongly objected, and would 
have nothing to do with it, Kathinka took the 
orphan boy to herself. It has already been the 
cause of much strife, but Kathinka, although 
ever yielding where only herself was concerned, 
remained firm in her resolution to keep the 
child, and he has been with us till to-day. I 
took the little boy as my charge, and have so 
won his love that I should hardly be able to 
leave him, even if I could find a more com- 
fortable position.” 

“ That sounds very well, but it is not right,” 
said the landlord, with a shake of the head. 
“ Every one must look out for himself, and it is 
foolish, for the sake of a stranger’s child, to re- 
main in poverty and distress, when you might 
perhaps find a home with good people who 
would treat you with kindness instead of cruelty 
and neglect.” 


40 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

“ But it is also for the poor woman, the good 
Kathinka’s sake,” answered Hilda, “ she is no 
longer able to sing or act well. If I should 
leave them, Jonathan could not earn any more 
money, and the weak, delicate woman would 
suffer still more. No ; there is nothing else to 
be done; I must stay with these people; it is 
God’s will. Frau Kathinka has always been 
good to me, and I will not prove ungrateful.” 

“ Then may the dear Lord help you, maiden ; ” 
said the innkeeper, with emotion. “ I wish you 
all the good that may happen ; but it is quite 
clear that your heart has run away with your 
head. Now, make yourself comfortable up here, 
and I will send Frau Kathinka and the child to 
you.” 

He went, and Hilda began with quick, busy 
fingers to arrange the two rooms. When Frau 
Kathinka came up with the boy, she found every- 
thing prepared, and as she looked at the large, 
airy room, in its order and neatness, a little sigh 
came to her lips — “ Oh, if we could but have it 


TRAVELING SINGERS. 4 1 

this comfortable always ! ” She too longed for 
rest from this weary life of travel, of which she 
was heartily sick. 

4 * 


/ 


CHAPTER II. 


“ WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH A LITTLE CHILD IN MY 
NAME, RECEIVETH ME.” 

E ARLY in the following day, Jonathan began 
to arrange his stage in a neighboring barn, 
that fortunately just then stood empty, and was 
offered to him ; and all of the little party assisted 
him industriously. 

The wagon was unpacked, and the things in it 
carried to the barn, where Jonathan worked and 
hammered under the admiring gaze of all the 
youth and children of the village, who crowded 
around the open door to watch him. The same 
evening the first entertainment was to take place, 
therefore he had much to do. Hilda went busily 
to and fro, and when anything was wanted she 
must bring it from the inn, for the landlord, at 
first so rough and unyielding, could refuse 
( 42 ) 


WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH, ETC. 43 

nothing at Hilda’s request, and gave her will- 
ingly all in his power that they needed. Boards, 
stakes, nails, ropes, and whatever else was re- 
quired he brought out, and often carried them 
with his own hands to the barn, that the work 
might go on still more quickly. So it happened 
that in the afternoon all was in order and ready 
for the expected entertainment. And when the 
time came, the peasants thronged in, bringing 
their wives and children, and completely filled 
the barn, till there was not room for one more. 
A couple of pieces of music, played on an old 
organ, did not sound as badly as one might 
imagine; then the curtain rose slowly to the 
ceiling. A background of the gaudily-painted 
curtains appeared, but the audience were not 
critical, and, although the stage effect was poor, 
and the scenery faded from its once bright colors 
to dim and indistinct outlines, the spectators 
thoroughly enjoyed the play; and the actors, 
especially Hilda, earned rich applause. She 
sang in a soft, sweet voice, and acted in so 


44 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

natural yet touching a manner, that she brought 
tears to many eyes. At last, after much clap- 
ping of hands, she bowed for the last time to her 
admiring audience, and the curtain fell, while the 
peasants returned to their homes in high spirits, 
ancf perfectly satisfied with their evening. Jona- 
than, too, was pleased; although the price of 
admission was but a groschen, or fourpence, he 
had taken in a good sum of money, and the 
people of the village had begged him to stay a 
long time, and give them many more entertain- 
ments. And the landlord was satisfied, for he 
now became convinced that he would lose 
nothing by having these strangers in his house; 
for he was not only certain that they would be 
able to pay him, but his custom was also largely 
sought by the peasants, of whom many stepped 
in after the play to take a glass of beer, and sit 
around the fire while talking over the evening’s 
performances. 

Two weeks passed quickly away. Each night 
the comedy seemed better than before, and the 


WHOSOEVER RECPIVETH, ETC. 45 

country people still filled the barn to overflowing ; 
for the fame of Hilda’s beautiful voice had spread 
over the surrounding country, and drew not only 
the peasants, but the more wealthy owners of 
property, and even the noble people, to the 
theatre ; and they not merely with groschens, but 
often with dollars, paid for their admission. 

Jonathan was delighted, and lost for the time 
his gloomy, morose expression. Hilda trilled 
and warbled as some wonderfully-gifted bird ; the 
landlord, punctually paid, was polite and atten- 
tive, and the atmosphere seemed full of joy and 
sunshine — when suddenly a dark cloud cast its 
shadows over the prospects of the poor singers. 
Frau Kathinka, who had for a long time been 
failing in health, now became all at once very ill, 
and the first consequence was the cessation of all 
entertainments by the little company, for the role 
of their few pieces was no longer complete. 
Hilda was not sorry to be able to devote all her 
time and care to nursing the sick woman, but 
Jonathan relapsed at once into his dark mood, and 


46 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


did not hesitate to show his disappointment and 
anger at the loss of time, which was money to him. 

Instead of becoming better, the poor Kathinka 
grew rapidly worse; she became weaker and 
weaker, and a very short time from the day she 
was taken sick, Hilda wept heart-broken tears 
over her dead body. Jonathan stood by un- 
moved ; he might have been a stone, for any sign 
of emotion that he showed. 

“ It is well that she is dead ! ” he said ; “ why 
do you weep, Hilda ? She was always weak and 
sickly, and now she is free from all misery in this 
life.” 

Hilda made no answer; she only wept still 
more violently — her only friend was gone. She 
mourned bitterly for the poor heart that had 
found so little happiness in life, and at whose 
death her husband did not even make a pretense 
of grief. 

“Cease this foolish noise!” began Jonathan 
again, after a short time, and caught Hilda by the 
arm. “ We have now other things to do than to 


WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH, ETC. 4 7 

bewail the dead ! Listen to me. We must ar- 
range our plans.” 

The girl answered him not. Indeed, she 
scarcely heard what he had said to her. Impet- 
uously Jonathan drew her away from the silent 
figure on the bed, and with astonishment and dis- 
pleasure visible in her face, Hilda lifted her 
swollen eyelids and gazed at the unfeeling man. 

“ This is but silly behavior,” he said ; “ here, 
sit down by the window, and pay attention to 
what I have’ to say to you.” 

Hilda sat down mechanically, clasped her 
hands over her heart, and raised her eyes, not to 
the rough man before her, but only to fix them 
again on the calm ‘face of the dead woman. 
Jonathan leaned forward, and went on in a low, 
guarded voice: 

“ Hilda, you have so much common sense that 
you must see exactly how we are situated. We 
can no longer play our roles since Kathinka has 
failed us, and we must think of some way to earn 
money. We can stay here no longer, but must 


48 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


depart secretly in the night, and this very night, 
too ; for if, in my circumstances, I should pay the 
funeral expenses of the Frau, then I would lose 
all the profits of the last two weeks, and we 
would be just as poor as before. Let the village 
community look after the funeral. They will 
surely bury her without my presence.” 

Hilda clasped her hands painfully together- 
“ You are a bad man, Jonathan,” she said. 

“ Bad or not,” he replied, “ the living must be 
cared for; while the dead — they need nothing 
more. As for you and me, we will quietly go 
away to-night. I hope you are satisfied that it is 
the best thing we can do. I have planned it all, 
and will take you where you can earn money 
enough for us both without great trouble. A 
comrade of mine plays with his company in 
Silesia ; we will go to him ; I know he will be 
glad to take us.” 

Hilda shook her head. “ I will not listen to 
it! We must not deceive the good people 
here,” she replied earnestly, and with decision. 


WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH, ETC. 49 

“ They have been very kind to us. Shame on 
you, Jonathan, if you go away in this manner! 
Besides, it would not be such an easy thing to 
do. How would you attempt it? How could 
you take your horse and wagon away secretly?” 

“ Oh, you foolish child, I would not think of 
doing that,” answered Jonathan, with an un- 
pleasant laugh. “ But that part is all settled ; I 
have already quietly sold the horse, wagon, and 
all the stage belongings, under the pretext that I 
Heeded the money to pay for the funeral ex- 
penses. A good-natured, stupid peasant has just 
let himself be taken in, and paid me the money 
for them. Until that becomes known, we are 
safe ; and once off, it will be a long day before 
they will see us again.” 

Hilda shuddered, and drew herself farther 
away ; she could hardly conceal the loathing she 
felt for the .man, who could deliberately plot 
such wickedness. 

“ So you have arranged it all, then,” she said 
after a time, during which she had tried to con- 


So 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


trol her agitation ; “ well, it may be easy to ac- 
complish, but how will you settle it with your 
conscience, Jonathan? Your actions cannot 
affect me very much, but what will become of 
Hans, and, before all, of your nephew, little 
Kurt? How can you carry the child away with- 
out being seen ? By means of him you will be 
easily traced : and what then ? No, Jonathan ; 
give up your bad intentions, and let us trust that 
God will help us now, as he has hitherto done.” 

“ Madness ! ” cried Jonathan, “ the creed of the 
world is that ‘ God helps them who help them- 
selves.’ What do you mean ? Do you imagine 
that I intend to be burdened with Kurt? While 
my wife lived, I was obliged to keep him with us, 
but now all that is over. Let what will happen 
to the child. I shall not trouble myself with 
him. Only you and I must go off together. 
The rest may look out for themselves.” 

Hilda grew pale ; the heartlessness of Jona- 
than frightened her; but she recovered herself, 
stood up, and looked indignantly at him with her 


WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH, ETC. 5 I 

clear, bright eyes. “ Once for all, Jonathan,” she 
said firmly, “ I will never leave the helpless child, 
who is now, but for me, quite alone in the world, 
since God has taken away the only other heart 
that was good to him. And, farther, I will not 
hear to it that you shall secretly steal away, and 
so wickedly betray the confidence of these 
people. You must attend to the burial of your 
wife, as is proper and becoming. If you do not 
agree to this, I will go immediately to the land- 
lord, and tell him what you have so basely 
planned. Think a moment, Jonathan, and then 
tell me that you will do what is right. You know 
me, and can understand that I am not saying 
what I do not mean to fulfill.” 

“But, Hilda, you exaggerate; it is not so 
bad!” answered Jonathan, who could hardly re- 
strain his anger at being thus opposed, and yet 
found it necessary to appease the young girl. 
“ Be quiet, and listen to rpe. You and I could 
easily make our way in the world ; but my com- 
rade will never take us in if we go to him bur- 


52 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

dened with the care of a little child. Hans is 
large and strong, and can readily find a place 
around here as stable-boy, or something better, 
perhaps. But Kurt — any one here will take him 
in ; certainly they will not let him starve. What 
can you be thinking about? He has no more 
claim on you than on the country people here, 
and it would really be a great misfortune for you 
to have him on your hands. You have talents, 
and can in time become a celebrated singer ; but 
if you take that youngster, everything fails, for 
you will not have the time to attend to him, and 
you can go nowhere without him.” 

“ For all that I will never leave him,” returned 
Hilda. “ I would rather beg my bread from 
door to door; rather walk barefoot through these 
snowy roads, or in hot dusty streets ; rather suffer 
myself hunger and thirst, than desert this little 
friendless child. I promised the woman who 
lies dead before us to watch over Kurt, and 
always care for him ; and with God’s help, I will 
keep my word. Besides, if I had not promised, 


WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH, ETC. 53 

it would be my pleasure and duty all the same, 
and nothing could turn me from it. This is all I 
can say, Jonathan, and it is enough. Will you 
act as an honest man, or not ? It depends upon 
yourself, whether you willingly do so, or whether 
the landlord shall compel you to it.” 

Jonathan ground his teeth with rage, but dared 
no longer give full sway to his passion, for he 
feared Hilda, and knew she would without hesi- 
tation inform the landlord of his proposed flight if 
he did not seem to agree with her, and pretend to 
give up his plans. “ Well then, you foolish child,” 
he said, reluctantly, “ of course there is nothing 
for me to do but stay ; but you will rue the power 
you use over me to-day. The funeral will swallow 
up all the money that we have made, and then 
we shall be again nothing more than beggars. 
You rpight have it very fine, Hilda. My comrade 
in Silesia would receive you gladly, and engage 
you at a good salary. Then you might live 
splendidly, and at ease, wear handsome clothes, 
and visit many cities; and in time it would be 


5 ' 


54 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

still better. But with the child, what will become 
of you ? He will even now swallow half of your 
earnings ; and when he is larger, his maintenance 
will be a heavy burden that your shoulders will 
not be able to bear. Be wise, Hilda ; leave the 
burden where it is, and go with me.” 

“ No !” repeated Hilda again, “ he and I shall 
remain together, and he will share my last 
mouthful of bread. Have you no shame your- 
self, Jonathan? Kurt, poor little fellow, is the 
child of your wife’s sister, and you are his near- 
est if not his only relative; it is properly your 
duty to care for him, and you would not only 
desert him yourself, but would even, if it were in 
your power, persuade me to leave him to the 
cold charity of strangers ! But enough ! unless 
you promise to stay and fulfill your duty, I keep 
my word, and go directly to the landlord.” 

“Yes, yes, I promise,” said Jonathan, “but 
you will soon enough be sorry for your decision. 
Very well, let it be as you say; you must bear 
the consequences of your obstinacy.” 


WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH, ETC. 55 

With these words he left the room, without 
even a glance at the earthly remains of his dead 
wife. Hilda looked upon him sadly, but satisfied 
that she had done all she was able. 

“ But he is a wicked man !” she said to herself. 
He means well neither to the child, nor to me. All 
is for his own ends. Poor Kathinka ! happy are 
you to be free forever from his harshness ! Surely 
God has taken you to the eternal bliss of Heaven 
— you who have suffered so much on earth.” 

She knelt again beside the bed, and prayed for 
grace and strength to fulfill the charge left to 
her, and arose refreshed, as though a higher power 
than her own upheld her. The future she left in 
God’s hands. Of Jonathan she thought no 
more ; she believed he would keep his promise 
to stay until after the funeral, and so dismissed 
him from her mind. 

The next day was that of the funeral. All 
were assembled in the parlor of the inn ; the 
coffin was locked; the bearers, several kind- 
hearted peasants, stood ready, awaiting the setting 


5 6 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

out, and a number of villagers were prepared to 
accompany the poor woman to her last resting- 
place. Hilda wept silently in a corner of the 
room ; all eyes but hers were fixed expectantly 
on the door. Jonathan had not yet appeared. 
The clock on the mantel ticked the minutes 
slowly away ; the hour had passed at which the 
little procession was to start. 

“ There must be something wrong,” at last said 
the landlord, after they had waited some time. 
“ I will go to his room and bring him down.” 

He went to the door of Jonathan's room and 
knocked; there was no response. Impatiently 
he knocked again, and more loudly ; still no 
sound from within. He turned the knob, the door 
opened without resistance, and a single glance 
showed the landlord that it was empty. With an 
expression of astonishment he entered, and looked 
in every corner, but found no sign of Jonathan. 
At last he perceived a piece of white paper on the 
window-sill ; he took it up quickly, and read the 
few lines that were hastily scrawled upon it. 


WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH, ETC. ^7 

“ Oh, the scoundrel !” he cried out “ I always 
thought he had an evil countenance. Gone off! 
Well, he has played me a sharp trick indeed !” 

Crimson with anger, he returned to the parlor. 
“ We need not wait longer,” he said to the peas- 
ants. “ Listen to what the rascal has written.” 

“My Dear Herr Landlord ,” he read from the 
paper. “ I have just enough money to enable 
Hans and myself to travel to a town where we 
can find good situations. I hope you will care 
for the funeral of my wife, as all the arrangements 
have been made. Do not trouble yourself to fol- 
low me, for while you are reading these lines, we 
are already many miles away. 

“You may tell Hilda that she will now have 
time to repent of her folly in not joining me, as 
without my help she travels through the world 
with the burden of Kurt on her shoulders. Fare- 
well, Herr Landlord. Good health to you ! 

“ Jonathan.” 

“ Shameful ! Contemptible ! Heartless and 
abominable !” cried the peasants in chorus. 


58 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

Hilda, pale and agitated, leaned against the 
wall ; this unexpected blow was almost more than 
she could bear. A feeling of horror overpowered 
her, as she realized that she now stood alone in 
the world. But after a few minutes her old brave 
spirit re-asserted itself, and she lifted up her head 
with fresh courage. Jonathan had himself broken 
the tie that bound them together. She was free. 
She stepped up to the landlord. 

“ Herr Landlord,” she said, “ pray believe that 
I am innocent of this treachery. Jonathan has 
been false to his promise to me ; but that is noth- 
ing. God will help the child and me. Only the 
poor wife ! Have pity on her dead body. Let 
her have a respectable burial, and I will work for 
you until I have repaid all the expense. Surely, 
God will take pity on us, poor orphaned chil- 
dren ! ” 

The innkeeper and the peasants looked com- 
passionately on the young girl, who stood be- 
fore them with tears in her eyes; and all has- 
tened to reassure her. 


WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH, ETC. 59 

“ Be satisfied, poor child,” said the landlord. 
“ None of the arrangements shall be altered ; the 
funeral shall go on just the same. Thank God, 
our village is not so poor that it cannot stand the 
expense of the burial. Let us start, good peo- 
ple ; we will carry the poor woman to her rest- 
ing-place ; and then we will see what is next to 
be done.” 

The bearers raised the coffin, and placed it on 
their shoulders. Hilda, still weeping, followed 
them ; the innkeeper walked by her side, and 
the peasants came after them. To the earth 
was given what now belonged to the earth; a 
little mound was raised above the heart that beat 
no longer, and Hilda fell on her knees beside it. 
The peasants with sympathetic glances left her, 
and returned to their work in the village. An 
hour later she came back to the inn with droop- 
ing head and swollen eyelids. She sat down in 
her room, and Kurt greeted her joyously, then 
returned to his play at her feet, while Hilda with 
anxious thought wondered what she could do 


6o 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


next. She felt veiy sad and lonely ; she had no 
money, and knew she must find -some means of 
earning enough to support Kurt and herself. 
The boy played on carelessly and happily, un- 
conscious of her distress. His merry laugh 
broke in upon her dreary self-communing. 
“ Poor child ! ” she murmured, “ what will be- 
come of us ! We have no claim upon any one 
in the world. We have no home, no money, no 
friends. But One watches over us ; we have a 
heavenly Father! Yes, he is our friend^ and 
will guide us, and keep us from harm.” 

She took the boy on her lap, and pressed him 
tenderly to her heart ; her tears fell, and shone 
like diamonds on his curls. 

“Why do you cry, Hilda?” he asked, and 
looked up wonderingly with his great blue eyes. 
“ Has Jonathan been beating you ? The wicked 
man ! Only wait till I grow big ; then he will 
never dare to touch you ! I will buy a sword, 
and will guard you as the page did the beautiful 
princess you told me about the other day.” 


WHOSOEVER RECE1VETH, El’C. 6 1 

“ You are my own good little boy,” she an- 
swered. “ No, Kurt, Jonathan will never trouble 
us again ; he has gone away, and will not come 
back.” 

“ That is good ! ” cried the child, clapping 
his hands with delight. “ But you will not go 
away, Hilda, will you ? you will always stay with 
me, and never leave me ? ” he asked anxiously. 

“ No, never, I promise you,” returned Hilda 
with quivering lips. “ Whatever happens I will 
stay with you ; we will never be separated.” 

“ Oh, then all is well ! ” replied the child, and 
smiled up at Hilda in perfect content. “ Now 
you must not cry any more, or look sad. Why 
do you, Hilda? Are you not glad that Jona- 
than has gone away ? ” 

“Yes, Kurt, but we are so poor and desolate; 
what will become of us?” said Hilda, uncon- 
sciously giving words to her thoughts. 

“ What the dear God wills, that we must 
accept,” repeated little Kurt, as if saying a lesson. 

“ How often you have said that to Aunt Kath- 
6 


62 


HILDA, OR GOD LRADETH. 


inka! Have you, then, forgotten our good Lord, 
Hilda? He always helps his children, and you 
often tell me that we are his children.” 

The child repeated only half understanding^ 
the words he had heard Hilda use in time of 
trouble to his aunt, but they came full of com- 
fort to her, and lifted her out of the depths of 
despondency into which she was fast sinking. 

“You are right, Kurt,” she said. “I will not 
cry any longer ; I will be strong and brave, and 
trust in God’s help. Go on with your play now, 
and be happy, and I too will find pleasure in the 
thought that the dear Lord will lead us in what- 
ever paths he may think best.” 

She placed Kurt again on the floor, and he 
returned to his play as merrily as though 
nothing had happened. 

“ Happy child ! ” she thought, “ he as yet 
knows nothing of suffering, and care, and sor- 
row; he enjoys the present in blessed uncon- 
sciousness of trouble. God grant him many 
such merry, childish, and fearless days.” 


WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH, ETC. 63 

While Kurt piled up the pieces of wood and 
little stones into fantastic shapes, Hilda again 
busied her thoughts with the future. How 
could she begin? What ought she to do? 
These were the questions to which she sought 
in vain a satisfactory answer. She had learned 
nothing during her wandering acting-life but 
what a kind-hearted minister in a country town 
had taught her; that was not much, for Jona- 
than had remained but three months in the 
town ; still, at - least, she had learned concerning 
God and his commandments. The good old 
minister had taught her well ; he also had been 
able, for she was bright and intelligent, to teach 
her reading, writing, and some arithmetic. But 
beyond this she understood nothing. She could 
sing, and play comedy, but these were now the 
least useful of all accomplishments to her. 

She thought a long time without finding a „ 
way out of her difficulty, and finally concluded 
to ask the innkeeper’s advice. Perhaps he might 
know of a situation for her. 


64 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

She went to him, and the landlord listened to 
her with interest, but still shook his head 
thoughtfully. 

“ I have been thinking of you,” he said. 
“ Yes, I have had you much in my mind, and 
have spoken of you to one and another of 
the people about here, and asked their advice, 
but we can come no nearer to a decision than 
yourself, you poor child. You are not strong 
enough to undertake heavy work, yet I would 
willingly keep you here, and let. you take care 
of the poultry, and have some other occupation, 
but I do not wish to keep the little boy on my 
hands. Our village is not wealthy, and we can- 
not support the children of strangers. But that 
need not trouble you ; if you can tell us where 
the boy really belongs, and who are his nearest 
relatives, we can perhaps find means of sending 
him to them. But if you will not be separated 
from him,” as Hilda firmly shook her head, 
“ then you must take him, and go farther. Do 
you know nothing of his family, Hilda ? ” 


WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH, ETC. 65 

“ Nothing,” answered Hilda. “ I remember 
the place from which we brought the child when 
he first came to us, but know nothing more.” 

“ That is bad ! ” said the landlord ; “ then I 
fear there is only one thing for you to do, and 
that is to go back to the same place, and inquire 
of the people living there if they know anything 
of the boy’s family. If they can give you any 
information concerning the child, it may be well 
for you both ; but if not, then you are still left, 
even as you are now. Have you any recollec- 
tion of your own home, child ? A landmark, or 
association of any kind ? ” 

“ Nothing; or what really amounts to nothing,” 
said Hilda, sadly; “Jonathan may have had any- 
thing belonging to me left when my nurse died ;. 
but he is far away, and I may never see him 
again.” 

“ Bad, bad !” said the landlord, again shaking 
his head. “Then there is nothing left besides 
what the village judge recommends. Do you 
know the name of the place in which you lived' 
6* E 


66 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


with your old nurse, when you were a child? 
— the place from which Jonathan first took you 
away ?” 

..“Yes, I remember that ! It is the little town 
of Gerschowetz, on the Polish frontier, in the 
large Dukedom of Posen.” 

“ Well, then, child, thither must you go ; it is 
the best that you can do,” said the landlord. “ It 
is a long, long way, and will be doubly hard if 
you insist upon taking the little one with you. 
He will be a great burden to you.” 

“ Oh, no, indeed !” said Hilda. “ The poor 
child has no one but me. My heart would bleed 
for his tender childhood. I could not desert 
him ! God has given him into my care, and I 
will be faithful to the trust.” 

“ That is all very good and brave, but it is not 
wise,” said the landlord. “ But that is your own 
business. Yet I would advise you to try to 
obtain some information in regard to his relatives. 
They may be well-to-do people, and may give 
him a home, and perhaps also find a good situa- 


WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH, ETC. 67 

tion for you. And that would be better for you 
both than to lead this wandering beggar life. 
Yes, do that, child ! Do you know his father’s 
name ?” 

“ Yes ; but he died even before the poor mother. 
His name was Muller.” 

“Muller; that is not much to know in this 
particular case, for there are so many people in 
the world that bear the same name that it will be 
hard to find the right family. Yet you must try it. 
From what place did you bring the little one ?” 

“ From Striegau, in Silesia.” 

“ Well,- then, you must go there at once and 
make inquiry. We will take care that you reach 
the place, and also that you come to the little 
town on the Polish border. The village clerk 
will make out a pass for you, and write on it a 
few lines in your favor. With it you must try to 
get through.” 

Poor Hilda ! But she must rest satisfied with 
this scanty generosity, for she could do no better, 
and must be grateful that she was not held re- 


68 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

sponsible for the debts that Jonathan in such a 
shameless manner had left behind. She thanked 
the landlord for his interest and advice, and 
promised to follow the latter part of it. The inn- 
keeper was pleased with her quiet submission, 
and filled with compassion at her forlorn, desolate 
position. 

“ You must not be in a hurry,” he said. “ No, 
no ; stay here a few days, and rest a little from the 
fatigue of nursing the sick woman. I am glad 
to have you stay, for I pity you from the bottom 
of my heart, and it grieves me much that I cannot 
help you.” 

Hilda let herself be persuaded to remain a 
little longer, for she felt weary and depressed — 
and it was not strange. She had slept but little 
during the last days: the grief and excitement 
through which she had passed had left their 
traces on body and spirit It was well that she 
did stay, for her sad and helpless situation moved 
the hearts of the villagers, and many little gifts 
were presented to her, that proved very useful in 


WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH, ETC. 69 

the days to come. Little Kurt, too, was comfort- 
ably fitted out with warm clothes ; and so many 
little contributions of money found their way into 
Hilda’s purse, that she ventured to hope she 
would be able to travel at least as far as Silesia 
without soliciting the charity of strangers. 

Three or four days later she packed her few 
things into a bundle, paid a last visit to Kath- 
inka’s grave, and bade farewell to the good vil- 
lagers who had so kindly treated her. Unwil- 
lingly, they said “ Good Bye” to the lonely 
maiden, and many sympathizing hearts followed 
her with blessings and good wishes as she set 
out on her long, wearisome journey. The old 
innkeeper who had received them so rudely, and 
only through the entreaties of the peasants had 
been induced to take them in, stood with tears in 
his eyes in the doorway, and pressed Hilda’s 
hand as warmly as though she were his daughter. 

“ God knows, my heart is sore, that I am not 
able to keep you,” he said; “but we in the 
village are not rich people, and must give the 


7 o 


HILDA, OR GOD *LEADETH. 


little we can spare to help our own poor kins- 
folk, who have come honestly through the world, 
and yet are often unfortunate, and in need of 
assistance. But I would willingly give you a 
light position were it not for the little one there. 
I fear he will be much inyour way. But remem- 
ber this, Hilda; if you find his relations, and 
they take him in, and the world goes not well 
with you, you must come back here ; let happen 
what will, we will surely find a shelter for you, 
and you shall not suffer from hunger. And 
now may the dear God keep you always as 
good, honest and brave as you now are, and give 
you all good luck on the journey ! ” 

“ Thank you, Herr, thank you ! ” answered 
Hilda through her tears, and tried to smile hope- 
fully ; but her heart was heavy, and she looked 
forward to the future with fear and dismay. 
“ What God has designed for me, he will fulfill. 
I must not complain; he will surely bring me 
out safely in the end. A thousand thanks for all 
the goodness and kindness you have shown me 


WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH, ETC. Jl 

and the poor woman who is in her grave. May 
the Lord repay you for it ; and now farewell ; 
farewell, dear people ! ” 

She burst into tears, and, taking little Kurt up 
in her arms, she hastened away, bearing also 
the bundle containing the charitable gifts of the 
villagers. She walked quickly forward in the 
face of a cold north-east wind, that chilled her 
and did not raise her spirits. She could not 
help the sobs that would break out, as she 
moved on her way, so alone in the world ; but 
faith still lingered in her heart, and kept her up — 
a firm faith in Divine Providence ; and with this 
faith to lighten her path, and strengthen her 
weak steps, she traveled forward. 


CHAPTER III. 


ON THE JOURNEY. 

A raw, disagreeable December morning looked 
down upon the earth. As far as the eye 
could see, heavy clouds covered the sky, and 
not a break was visible, through which a ray 
of sunshine might penetrate to the cold earth. 
An unbroken sheet of snow about a foot in 
depth spread itself over the sleeping fields, 
meadows and woods, wrapping them as in a 
gigantic shroud. Here and there, at long inter- 
vals, a church-spire gleamed out, breaking the 
monotonous flatness of the scene — the only evi- 
dence that this part of the country was not en- 
tirely left to solitude and the elements. No liv- 
ing creature showed itself, save a raven that with 
rapid flight swept over the plain. Neither horse 
nor wagon appeared on the highway that led to 
the distant village. It wound along like a dingy 
( 72 ) 


ON THE JOURNEY. 


73 


thread through the dazzling snow-drifts. Not 
far from the road, and somewhat aside from it, 
stood a low, uninviting little hut ; a roughly built 
place, without windows, and covered on top 
only with straw ; it had apparently been used by 
the mowers in summer, as a place in which to 
keep their tools. Now, in winter, it seemed 
^uite deserted. But it was not; as the gray 
dawn cast its twilight shadows down, the little 
wooden door of the hut was opened from within, 
and a young girl stepped out into the open air, 
and looked up anxiously at the cloudy sky, then 
down upon the deep snow-drifts that lay at her 
feet. The prospect of the weather did not seem 
to please her, for she shook her head sadly, and 
a heavy sigh passed her lips. 

“ Another dreary day ! ” she murmured. “ Poor 
little Kurt is hardly able to go on, yet we must 
try to reach the nearest village, if we would not 
perish with hunger and cold. Oh it is so far ! so 
far ! I can scarcely see the tower that stands out 
like a black speck in the snow. May God grant 


74 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

us strength to reach it. I feel almost frozen, and 
tired to death ! ” Suddenly she paused, and stood 
listening by the open door. 

“ Hilda ! ” a whimpering voice from within 
called. “ Hilda, where are you ? I am hungry, 
and so cold ! Do not leave me alone ! ” 

“ Poor child ! ” sighed Hilda, “ at his tender age 
to suffer cold and hunger ! and I have nothing 
now but a piece of dry bread. Well, it will be 
enough for him ; and we — I must wait till we 
meet some charitable people. The child shall 
come first.” 

Again the plaintive voice called her name, and 
she hastened into the hut. It was quite dark in- 
side ; only a faint light came in through the door 
that now stood open, and showed little Kurt, who 
lay buried up to his neck in a mound of hay, 
and was softly weeping. He stretched out his 
arms to Hilda. 

“ I am so cold and hungry ! ” he said. 

“ Wait, wait ! ” answered Hilda, cheerily, “ see, 
here is some bread ! It will satisfy your hunger, 


ON THE JOURNEY. 


75 


and when you begin to move about, and we 
are again on the way, I hope you will grow 
warm.” 

Kurt seized eagerly the piece of bread that 
Hilda held out, and devoured it with evident en- 
joyment : he did not leave a single crumb. Now 
Hilda took him in her arms, and tried tp warm 
him by holding him close to herself. She suc- 
ceeded, or perhaps the child had been more hun- 
gry than cold ; for he looked up at her and 
smiled quite brightly again. 

“Oh, the hay was not so bad, Hilda: now, 
though, you must eat.” 

“ I have already eaten, Kurt,” she answered, 
with a faint smile. “ Let us go on, that we may 
reach a village before another night. You will 
be glad to sit in a warm room once more, you 
poor child ; will you not ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed ! ” answered the boy, starting up. 
“ Let us go at once ; why do we stay in this cold, 
dark hut ? ” 

“ We will not stay longer now,” said Hilda* 


;6 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


but do you not remember that yesterday you 
could go no further, and I too was tired, and the 
nearest village lay so far off, that we must thank 
God that we found even this poor little hut to 
protect us from the snow and the night air? It 
was much better to sleep under a roof and in the 
clean hay, than outdoors, to lie under the open 
sky, on the cold white snow : was it not ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” said the boy, “ but why must we 
still ever be going farther? Why can we not 
stay in some village till the winter is over, and 
the sun is warm again ? I am tired of traveling, 
Hilda ; I cannot go on ! ” 

“Yes, you can, Kurt. Just a little farther 
to-day. We must go on. We are poor, helpless, 
and without friends/’ said the young girl sadly, 
“ no one will take us in ; but only have patience, 
Kurt ; when the distress is greatest, then is the 
dear God nearest. We have not very much more 
to endure : soon we shall reach the town where 
I hope to learn something of your father: he 
surely must have had friends and relatives some- 


ON THE JOURNEY. 


77 


where, and we will not rest till we find them. 
They cannot help taking pity on you, poor child, 
and as for me — what the good Lord wills may 
happen. But we talk and talk, and that does not 
help us on. We must go forward and make in- 
quiries. Are you able to run again, little boy ? ” 

“ I will try it, dear Hilda ; my feet are still 
sore from yesterday, but I know we must go on.” 

He raised himself with Hilda’s assistance out 
of the hay, and stood entirely dressed on the 
floor of the hut. Hilda brushed off the little 
pieces of hay that still clung to his clothes, 
smoothed his hair, and put on his hat, tying it 
down with a narrow ribbon, a gift from one of 
the villagers, that the rough wind might not 
carry it away. She then took him by the hand, 
and they left the hut together, and turned into 
the highway. They reached it with a few steps, 
and now their nearest goal lay towards the 
church-steeple, which seemed to beckon them 
on with a friendly gleam through the frosty 
morning. 

7 * 




HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


Little Kurt held out bravely for an hour, and 
waded uncomplainingly through the snow, which 
in many places reached above his knees. Hilda 
cheered him by her praises, and patted his pale 
cheeks caressingly, but it was hard work ; the 
wading through the heavy snow exhausted his 
strength, and the poor little fellow had not much 
in the beginning. 

He soon began to walk unsteadily, then stag- 
gered, reeled, and would have fallen if Hilda had 
not held him firmly up. 

“ I cannot go on,” he said at last, and began to 
cry. “ My feet are so heavy I can scarcely lift 
them.” 

Hilda sighed, and glanced regretfully at the 
church-tower that still shone at a distance. 
“ Courage, dear Kurt,” she said. “ We dare not 
stop. Only think of the warm room, and good 
supper ! Let us take breath, and try once more.” 

A block of granite lay in the road near them. 
She took Kurt in her arms, carried him to the 
stone, and sat down ; the child nestled closely to 


ON THE JOURNEY. 


79 


her ; she spread over him the little cape that had 
afforded her but scanty protection from the 
weather, and tried to warm him at her hear! 
Kurt smiled up at her gratefully, then closed his 
eyes with a tired yet restful expression, and in a 
few moments was sound asleep. A tear dropped 
from Hilda’s eye on his unconscious face. 

“ Sleep well, and rest, dear child,” she mur- 
mured. “ You may for a little time, at least, 
forget your distress ; it is enough for me to find 
it so bitter. How unfortunate we are ! ” 

As she sat and thought, her eyelids slowly 
drooped; but she tried to rouse herself, and 
looked at Kurt several times to see if he had 
awakened, that they might go on ; but with her 
arms around him, and his head on her breast, he 
slumbered softly on, and she could not bear to 
waken him, so let him sleep; at last she too 
nodded, then slept. But the wet, cold snow- 
flakes falling in her face mercifully restored her 
to consciousness. 

“ How wrong ! ” she exclaimed, “ I have al- 


80 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

lowed myself to sleep. Kurt must have the shel- 
ter of a roof to-night, or he will be sick, and I 
too. Oh, hunger, go away ! We must hasten on 
— faster — faster. ’ ’ 

She looked at the boy; he had just opened his 
eyes. 

“ Do you think you can stand, Kurt ? ” she 
said. “ Will you try to walk now ? 

“Yes, I believe I can. How nicely I slept on 
your shoulder, Hilda ! So much warmer and bet- 
ter than in the hay. But, see, it is still snowing.” 

Surely it snowed, and, alas ! so fast and thick 
came the flakes, that in a few minutes Kurt and 
Hilda were enveloped in a snow mantle. A cut- 
ting wind stung their faces, as they pressed 
onward again, and made their hard journey still 
more toilsome and unpleasant. At first Hilda 
felt the bitterness of the weather but little, for 
the sleep that had overcome her on the cold 
stone had left her chilled and benumbed, and the 
exercise necessary for their struggle through the 
snow-drifts started the blood again in her veins, 


ON THE JOURNEY. 


8 


and partially warmed her. But Kurt soon com- 
plained of fatigue, and of the bleak wind which 
he could scarcely resist. In another half hour 
he completely gave out, and fell, sobbing, down 
in the snow. Hilda wrung her hands in grief 
and anxiety. She knew only too well the danger 
of their situation. If they could not reach the 
village before nightfall, they were both lost, for 
they would certainly perish with hunger and 
cold. And from such a fate she shrank back 
shuddering. 

“ Dear God, please help and strengthen us ! ” 
she whispered, looking up with clasped hands. 
Then she listened, for a clattering sound came to 
her ear, suddenly, through the storm and wind. 
She lifted her head, and stood breathless with 
delighted surprise. Yes, she had not deceived 
herself; it was the sound of wheels on the snow 
the neighing of horses; the jingling of bells! 
A wagon was coming along the highway, and 
must soon overtake them. God had sent help in; 
her great, great need. 


8 2 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

Nearer and nearer sounded the wagon ; she 
could now see the horses, as they came on with 
rapid tread. “ Help ! help ! in God’s name, 
help ! ” she cried loudly, and stretched up her 
.arms imploringly towards the wagon; but as a 
shadow blown away, the team passed before her, 
;and the next minute had disappeared amid the 
whirling snowflakes, and the jingling bells and 
the clattering wheels died away in the distance. 
The driver seated within his wagon had either 
not heard and seen her, or he was selfish and 
cruel, and would not stay to rescue them from 
the peril in which they found themselves. 

The frightful disappointment to her hopes 
seemed to benumb poor Hilda ; with a cry she 
sank on her knees in the snow, and despondingly 
clasped her hands together. Courage and 
strength seemed at last to desert her ; and she 
was hardly conscious of anything till the plead- 
ing voice of Kurt recalled her to action. 

“ Do not cry, dear, good Hilda,” said the 
child, and put his weak arms around her neck. 


ON THE JOURNEY. 


83 


“ Do not cry ; I will go on, and will not com- 
plain of being tired; only do not cry, dearest 
Hilda.” 

“You are right, Kurt,” she said, recovering 
herself once more. “ We dare not doubt, but 
must believe that God will help us. Come, 
come ! the raven and the swallow have their 
nests, and the pitiful God will also lead us to 
shelter. Hold fast to my hand. Now let us 
go ; we must reach the village ; we will pray as 
we go that God will let us find it.” 

With renewed energy she hastened forward so 
quickly against the wind and snow that little 
Kurt broke down again in a few minutes. 

“ Leave me, Hilda ! ” he sighed, breathless 
with his exertions. “ I cannot go on. Let me 
lie here, and you go farther alone ; you will soon 
reach the village without me.” 

The faint voice of the child, and his quiet 
yielding, struck terror to Hilda’s heart. With 
tears running down her face, she bent over him, 
and put her arms around him. 


84 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

“ Leave you ! never, never ! ” she cried. 
“ Whatever fate is in store for us, shall find us 
together. I am strong yet, and fresh; I will 
carry you. Be quite still; only put your arms 
around my neck, and lay your head on my 
shoulder — so. Now you will see how quickly 
we go forward ! ” 

But Hilda only too soon perceived how very 
much she had overrated her strength in the 
excitement of the moment. It required a strong 
effort even to stand up with the weight of the 
boy on her back, and the wading through the 
snow in the face of the wind almost immediately 
exhausted her little remnant of strength. She 
was compelled to stand still and rest at intervals 
that became shorter and shorter; she could 
scarcely breathe. Then, too, the poor girl had 
eaten nothing the whole day; the cravings of 
unsatisfied hunger preyed upon her, and she 
grew weaker and weaker. At every two or 
three steps her strength would fail, and ever a 
longer time she needed to rest. Suddenly she 


ON THE JOURNEY. 


85 


broke down altogether, and fell with Kurt into a 
hole which the snow had deceptively covered. 
The shock unsettled her. She struck her breast 
with her hands, and groaned, and then lay still 
in merciful unconsciousness. Thick and white 
the large snow-flakes fell over them. Was it 
their mission to weave a shroud for the lonely, 
helpless wanderers ? Only God could help them 
now, and his arm was ready. 

Again came the dull sound of a wagon rolling 
over the snow ; nearer, and still nearer ; slowly, 
but surely. A musical jingling of bells mingled 
with the whistling wind. And now a freight 
wagon drawn by four sturdy horses appeared, 
moving along the highway. In spite of the bad 
weather, the driver whistled a lively tune as he 
drew near. A large, strong, noble-looking dog 
walked meditatively near him. They reached 
the break in the road. Will th*e driver discover 
the poor waifs in their snow-beds ? No ! the 
horses stamped their feet and went on, the 
wagon rolled past, the driver whistled his song, 
8 


86 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

and looked neither to the right nor the left. 
No ! no hope in him for the unfortunates. Must 
they perish where they lie, and the snow be 
indeed their white shroud? But suddenly the 
dog stood still, raised his handsome head with 
its sparkling eyes, and snuffed his nose in the 
air ; then uttered a low, heavy growl like distant 
thunder. He sprang out into the road, and with 
a bound reached the spot where the two children 
lay, and began industriously to scratch away the 
snow with his paws. 

“ Sultan ! Sultan ! ” called the driver in a loud 
voice. 

The dog heard, but instead of obeying the 
call, lifted up his head, and uttered a long howl. 

“ Sultan ! ” cried his master anew. “ Stupid 
fellow! I suppose he has found the track of 
another hare. Here, Sultan, come here ! ” 

Again the dog answered by a mournful bay- 
ing; then, leaping up, stood before his master, 
and howled still more loudly. 

“Well then, go, Sultan. But you are not 


ON THE JOURNEY. 


87 


wise,” said his master, and would have gone on ; 
but Sultan placed himself in the way, then 
sprang in front of the horses, as though they 
might understand, if his master did not; then 
ran back again to the man, caught his coat 
between his teeth, dragged violently at it, then 
ran again to the hole, where he uttered his wild, 
mournful howl in the most melancholy tones. 

“Ah, this is something extraordinary,” said 
the driver, who at last began to comprehend that 
this was no common freak of Sultan’s. 

He now laid down the reins, and drew near 
Sultan, who still stood on the edge of the hole, 
and had not ceased his howls. One glance 
showed his master the cause of the unusual 
conduct of his brave dog. A young girl lay 
half buried in the snow, with a child in her arms ; 
bofh pale, with closed eyes; unconscious, per- 
haps dead. 

“ Oh, the poor children ! ” cried the man. 
“Are they dead? God grant that they still 
live, and that we may save them, Sultan ! ” 


88 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

In an instant he had leaped down into the 
hole, while Sultan changed his howl into wild, 
loud barks of sympathy. 

The man lifted out the boy first. “ Thank the 
dear Lord, he still lives ! ” he said, as he carried 
him quickly to the wagon, where he prepared a 
clean bed of straw under its shelter. Here he 
placed the child, and poured down his throat a 
few drops of wine from a bottle which he took 
out of one of the boxes. “ This wine is not 
mine,” he said to himself, “ but the boy’s life 
must be saved, and I will bear the consequences. 
Kurt opened his eyes almost immediately, and 
stammered, “Hilda, dear Hilda, where are you?” 

“ Be very quiet, my dear little fellow,” said 
the man, “ and I will bring her to you ; she is 
not far away, and probably — well, we shall see.” 

He covered the boy warmly, and hastened 
back to the hole in the snow. Here, in the 
meanwhile, the faithful Sultan had not been 
idle; he had jumped down into the hole, and his 
master found him crouched beside the young 


ON THE JOURNEY. 


s 9 


girl, licking her pale face and hands. The 
warmth of the dog’s body had already done 
good service. Hilda looked up with eyes wide 
open, if still a little bewildered, and gazed with a 
faint smile on the beautiful dog as the man ap- 
peared, and with a good-natured, honest face, 
looked rejoiced to see her alive and conscious. 

“ Well, young lady, how do you feel ? ” he 
said. “You have chosen a cold bed; yet it is 
well for you that the hole is half-filled with snow ; 
for otherwise you must have frozen to death. 
But it seems that everything has been well or- 
dered ; thank the good God ! If now you only 
do not suffer from the exposure to the weather. 
But what is the matter? Why do you look 
around so wildly ? ” 

“ Kurt ! the little boy ! ” cried Hilda, full of 
amazement and trouble, as she recovered more 
fully her consciousness, remembered her charge, 
and looked around for him in vain. “ Where is 
the child, my little Kurt ? ” 

“ Oh, the little boy,” said the wagoner quickly, 
8 * 


gO HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

when he understood her trouble. “ He is all 
right ; be satisfied about him ; he is lying warm 
and dry on a bed in my wagon, and very comfort- 
able, too. I do not believe he has a pain or an 
ache. He only asks for you. You are Hilda, 
are you not ? ” 

“Yes, that is my name Oh, thank the dear 
Lord that we are saved,” cried Hilda from the 
depths of her heart. 

“ Yes, you may indeed thank God,” said the 
man. “ If he had not led us by at the right 
moment (and even then it was to Sultan that he 
gave the power and instinct to discover you in 
the snow), if we had come but a little later, we 
might have found only your dead bodies lying in 
the snow. Is the little one your brother? You 
cannot be his mother — you are too young.” 

“ No, not my brother, but he is just the same 
to me as if he were,” replied Hilda. “ Oh, I 
pray you, take me to him; he will be alarmed 
about me.” 

“ Yes, I have seen that already,” said the man. 


ON THE JOURNEY. 9 1 

“ Can you stand, young lady, or shall I help 
you ? ” 

Hilda attempted to raise herself up by cling- 
ing to the large dog, but was still too weak, and 
with a sigh fell back again. 

“ I see you are not able ; your limbs are numb 
with cold,” said the wagoner, “ but that will soon 
pass off. I will carry you; you will not be 
much heavier than the little boy ; now hold fast 
to my shoulders.” And the next moment the 
strong man had taken her up in his arms, and 
carried her as he had borne little Kurt to the 
wagon. Sultan, still barking joyfully, bounded 
beside them. It was touching to see the meet- 
ing between Hilda and Kurt. The little fellow 
shouted aloud as he put his arms around Hilda, 
and she pressed him to her heart, and kissed 
him, while the tears stood in her eyes. 

“ Oh, thank God, thank God ! ” she uttered. 
“ It is indeed true, that when the ne£d is greatest, 
his help is nearest.” 

Their rescuer looked at the two children with 


92 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

great interest. Although rough in appearance 
and unpolished in his manners, a warm heart 
beat in his breast, and he heartily rejoiced that 
he had been the means of saving the waifs, who, 
though deserted by all others, loved each other 
so dearly. 

“ Well, well ! hold fast to each other, and be 
content,” he said after a time, when they had 
become a little more calm after the first delight 
of seeing each other. “ Here, young lady, 
swallow a few drops of wine out of this bottle ; 
it will be good for you.” 

Hilda stretched out her hand for the bottle, 
but her former weakness overpowered her again ; 
her arm fell helpless to her side, and her face 
grew still paler. 

“ What is it ? ” asked the man anxiously. 
“ What ails you ? Only tell me, and I will gladly 
help you, if it is in my power.” 

“ I am so hungry; oh, so hungry! ” murmured 
Hilda, half unconsciously, with quivering lips. 

“ Oh, is that it? well, we will soon help that.” 


ON THE JOURNEY. 


93 


And the honest fellow reached quickly for his bag 
of provisions, which hung in the back part of 
the wagon near the hay and straw for the horses. 
He took out some bread, butter, and ham ; cut 
off with his large pocket-knife several good slices 
of bread, spread the butter upon them, and 
offered them with the ham to Hilda and Kurt. 
Both ate with relish, and the hue of health soon 
returned to their faces. Soon Hilda was able to 
express her gratitude to the compassionate 
wagoner who had acted the part of the good 
Samaritan towards them. 

“ Oh, that is nothing,” he interrupted, “ I have 
done only my duty as a Christian ; one would be 
worse than the heathen, if he could pass you two 
children in the snow, and not take pity on you. 
Tell me now where you are going, that you are 
compelled in this severe winter weather to travel 
on the deserted highway alone; and how you 
happened to fall into that hole, from which by 
such a narrow chance you both came out alive. 
But take your own time ; do not hasten ; I will 


94 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

come into the wagon, so that you need not talk 
loudly, and Sultan shall also jump in to help keep 
us warm. So ! do not move ; we all have room 
enough. Keep yourself well covered, for you 
are still wet and half-frozen. Now, Sultan ! 
Jump in ! And now we will go on. In an hour 
we will reach the village, where you shall soon 
have a hot supper and a warm bed ! ” While he 
was speaking, he had sprung into the wagon^ 
seated himself near the children, and now took 
the reins in his hands. Sultan with a bound 
reached Hilda’s side, and lay down between her 
and Kurt. The horses started, and the wagon was 
again in motion. With a feeling of gladness and 
gratitude, Hilda looked at Kurt and the sturdy, 
jolly wagoner. 

“ Now,” said the latter, as his horses went on 
at a good pace, “ now we can talk, that is if you 
are not still too weary ; in that case we can well 
wait till we reach the village, and you are rested. 
It is not exactly curiosity, although I own to 
some of that too, but I would like to know how 


ON THE JOURNEY. 95 

it is that two children, as you are, are left to 
wander about in the world alone.” 

Hilda related her story. She told him of her 
past life with Jonathan, how she had become 
separated from him, and of her wandering since 
then through long weeks of hardship and suffer- 
ing with little Kurt. If she might only reach 
the town in Silesia where she hoped to obtain 
news of Kurt’s family ! 

“ Well, that is a coincidence,” said the wag- 
oner, rubbing his hands with pleasure. “ See 
here, I am just on the way to Striegau : I have 
no business there, and will probably not remain 
there over night; I can take you with me, so 
you will have no more trouble about that.” 

“ Oh, how good you are ! how kind ! ” cried 
Hilda, her eyes filling with tears of joy. 

“Not a bit of it ! ” answered the wagoner 
sturdily. “ I can see very plainly that you are a 
brave girl, and the good God will not let you 
suffer. I will be glad to have you and the boy 
with me. Your company will help to make the 


9 6 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


time pass more quickly, so say no more about it. 
I will put you down in Striegau ; then you must 
trust boldly in God, who has shown you to-day 
that he will not forsake you, but will ever lead 
you onwards towards the hands that he has 
willed to help you. I know well the little one 
must be a heavy burden to you, but it is a noble 
heart that will not leave him. Always look up 
and do not be discouraged ; the sorest need will 
always bring you some succor from above, and 
you will surely some day find a reward for your 
care of the orphan child.” 

“ Oh, I do not wish a reward,” said Hilda 
earnestly. “ Any one else in my place would do 
the same thing. I will be happy if I can find 
a good home among his father’s people, for I 
know that this moving about from place to place, 
and the uncertainty of receiving food and shelter, 
cannot be good for him.” 

“You are right, young girl,” said the man, 
“ but do not lose courage. God will lead you to 
some haven where you will find rest and peace. 


ON THE JOURNEY. 


97 


But what are your plans, if you succeed in find- 
ing the little fellow’s relatives, and they take him 
home to themselves ? ” 

“ Then ? Well, then I will go to Gerschowetz, 
on the Polish border, where my old nurse Dor- 
othy lived. The landlord of the inn advised me 
particularly to go there.” 

“ To Gerschowetz ! Now see how things 
come about ! ” cried the man. “ I am a native 
of Gerschowetz, and my old mother is still living 
there. She will be glad to receive news of me. 
You must inquire for her if you go there, and 
she will take you in with pleasure when you tell, 
her you bring greetings and a message from her 
son, Michael Dombrowsky. Indeed, the dear 
old woman has not heard from me for a long, 
time, because I cannot write, and my master has 
no time. But I send her money from time to. 
time as I can spare it, and she knows I do not 
forget her. See how plainly things show that 
the good God has ordered it that I should find, 
you in the snow.” 


9 


G 


98 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

Hilda promised very willingly to look for Frau 
Dombrowsky if she should reach Gerschowetz, 
for it would be a great advantage to her to know 
of a place where she could find shelter while 
pursuing her inquiries. They talked much 
further of the little town, and the old nurse, 
and of what that secret might be which she 
had carried with her to the grave. Michael 
•considered it a matter of much more import- 
ance than the innkeeper of the village had 
thought it, and asked many questions about it. 

“ It is a very strange story/’ he said. “ Look 
you, young lady, poor peasant people cannot 
generally afford to have nurses for their children ; 
and if this Dorothy of whom you speak really 
was your nurse, then you must surely come of a 
good family. A great many wicked things have 
been done over yonder in Poland. I heard of 
them in my youth when I lived in Gerschowetz. 
Who knows whether you were not born there ? 
You have quite a Polish countenance, and a fine, 
distinguished manner, that we do not often find 


ON THE JOURNEY. 


99 


among the peasants. Yes, surely you must go 
to Gerschowetz, and seek my mother ; she is an 
observing woman, and knows more than most 
folks think. You can open your whole heart to 
her, and depend on her for advice. Who knows 
what you may discover there ? God leads men 
often in wonderful ways, and guides them to 
their fate by the finest thread. To me it is very 
plain that it is for some good purpose he has let 
me find you.” 

They made many conjectures, but still no real 
clue could they find to the mystery that hovered 
over Hilda’s birth and destiny. But that a secret 

existed seemed to the honest Michael without a 

» 

doubt, and he impressed upon Hilda the im- 
portance of making all possible inquiry in Ger- 
schowetz, and, above all, of taking his mother 
into her confidence. At last they reached the 
village, and their conversation on this subject 
was at an end for the day. Michael cared for 
the two children as a father, ordered for them a 
good warm supper and a comfortable bed-room, 


100 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

and rested not till he had done all that was 
possible for them. 

The true-hearted, self-sacrificing Hilda had 
won his interest and regard, as she had those 
of every one else with whom she met. 

The worst of the journey was now over. 
Michael took them the remainder of the way to 
Striegau, where they arrived in a few days with- 
out danger or fatigue; but here they must be 
separated from the kind man. It might be a long 
time before Hilda could learn anything of Kurt’s 
relatives. Michael’s business led him to Sudos- 
ten, while Hilda, after she should make all the 
inquiries possible, must travel in the opposite di- 
rection to Gerschowetz. So they parted, but not 
before Michael had satisfied himself that they 
were comfortably settled for the present. Hilda 
had still a little money left, and Michael secretly 
dropped several dollars into Kurt’s pocket, where 
Hilda found it soon after he had started on his 
journey. It was hard to say good-bye to their 
only friend, and Hilda’s tears flowed. Kurt put 


ON THE JOURNEY. 10 1 

his arms around his new friend’s neck, and clung 
to him as though he would keep him with them. 
Michael too was affected. “ God leads us,” he 
said, “ and I have a presentiment, that our heav- 
enly Father will bring all things to a successful 
end with you, my dear young lady. May he be 
with you in all your way, and smooth the rough 
places of the world, that they may not wound 
your feet as you go over them.” He pressed her 
hand warmly as he spoke, and Hilda returned the 
cordial grasp ; then the whip cracked, the horses 
started, and the freight-wagon rolled away. 

Hilda was again alone with Kurt. It gave her 
a fresh feeling of pain, but she did not lose cour- 
age. God had so surely taken care of her on 
her hard and weary journey, that she deemed it a 
sin to doubt his farther grace and mercy. “ He 
is my staff and my refuge,” she said to herself 
over and over again. “As long as he is with me, 
what shall I fear, though I wander through the 
whole world ? ” 

9 * 


CHAPTER IV. 

A REFUGE. 

M ICHAEL had taken Hilda and Kurt to a 
little inn well-known to him in former 
times. A cheerful, robust, ever-busy landlady 
kept the house, and Hilda soon found that 
Michael had left them in excellent hands. The 
good Frau Kinsky received her with motherly 
kindness, for Michael had related to her the 
story of the two children, and her honest heart 
knew how to appreciate the faithful love with 
which the poor forsaken girl had devoted her- 
self to Kurt. She put her in a bright, cosy 
room, and made her as comfortable as she could, 
and gave her friendly advice, as far as she was 
able, in the search for Kurt’s relatives. But, 
also, Hilda soon discovered that no one in the 
town could give her any clue to the information 
she sought. Many remembered that a poor 
actress had died in the place, but no one had 


A REFUGE. 


103 


known her husband. Every inquiry remained 
fruitless, and Hilda began to grow discouraged : 
not for her own sake, for it would have caused 
her deep pain and sorrow to part with the child, 
whom she had grown to love so dearly in spite 
of the hardships through which they had passed. 
But she had hoped for a comfortable home, and 
the means of a good education, which she feared 
she would never be able to provide for him. Still 
she did not give up all hope for the future. 
“ God will help us ! ” she said to the landlady, as 
she related to her the failure of her efforts to 
learn anything of Kurt’s father. 

“ You may be helped sooner than you expect,” 
said the Frau, cheerfully. “ Listen to me, child; 
you have now been eight days with me, and 
during this time I have observed you pretty 
closely. We could agree very well together, I 
believe ; and my house is often so full of guests, 
that many a time I would be glad of an extra 
pair of hands to help serve the people more 
quickly Do you not see that you could stay 


104 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

with me, and be always on hand to assist me ? 
I like your ways; you are quick and neat, 
orderly and clean. Stay, then ; you will have a 
comfortable home with me, and that will be 
much better than wandering through the coun- 
try. I mean well by you. Do not take too 
long to decide, but let us settle it at once.” 

“And little Kurt?” 

“ Oh, well, we can try and get some family to 
take him, or put him in an orphan asylum,” 
answered the woman. “ What is the child to 
you but a burden? You have done your duty 
by him, and must now think of yourself. You 
do not expect to be dragged down all your life 
with the boy, do you ? You have now seen that 
you can learn nothing of his father’s family. So 
put an end to it all by sending the youngster 
away, and stay here with me.” 

Hilda shook her head. “ I cannot do it. My 
whole heart would rise up against it. I know you 
mean kindly, Frau Kinsky, and I am grateful to 
you for it, but my conscience would not allow me 


A REFUGE. 


105 


to part with Kurt. I promised his dead aunt that 
I would not forsake him, and I will honestly keep 
my word.” 

“ Oh, well, then there is nothing more to be 
said,” said the woman in displeasure. “ I will 
not have the child around here. But perhaps 
you will think better of it. Consider my proposal 
over night, and give me your answer to-morrow.” 

With these words, Frau Kinsky went away to 
attend to her guests. Hilda went to her room, 
and clasped little Kurt, who sprang smiling to 
meet her, tenderly in her arms. 

“ No, a thousand times no ! ” she exclaimed, 
“ I will not be so wicked and selfish as to think 
only of my own welfare, and forget the poor 
child. Never will I leave him, unless in the pro- 
tection of loving relatives, where he can be better 
cared for than by me, the poor wanderer.” 

This temptation passed lightly over her noble, 
high-principled nature. Certainly, she dreaded 
starting out in the cold winter weather again on a 
long journey; but it would have been harder still 


10 6 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

to break faith with her own conscience. The boy 
she held as a gift entrusted to her care by God, 
and she must guard and protect him, no matter 
how she might suffer in consequence. This feel- 
ing stood unshaken in her heart, and swallowed 
up every thought of self. 

The next morning she again packed her little 
bundle, and went to take leave of the landlady. 
Frau Kinsky shook her head in displeasure. 

“ I see how it is,” she said. “ You are a self- 
willed creature, who cannot listen to reason, and 
only tread your fortune under your feet. Well, 
then, so be it. I wash my hands of you. I 
have offered to do all I could for you, and you 
refuse to accept it.” 

“ Yes, you have been very kind, Frau Kinsky, 
and I will always remember your goodness with 
gratitute,” said Hilda, meekly. “ But even for 
my own happiness’ sake, I cannot give up Kurt. 
I would never have another peaceful hour if I 
did. Again, hearty thanks for your kindness. 
May God reward you for it ; and now farewell.” 


A REFUGE. 107 

“ Child, think again ! There is still time,” 
said the woman once more. 

But Hilda shook her head. “ It cannot be,” 
she said, and turned away. A few minutes later 
she was again on the highway, and Kurt 
bounded beside her, chattering in a lively 
manner. A long, tiresome journey it was over 
the snow-covered land, and many times severely 
cold. The poor children made but slow pro- 
gress, for Kurt could naturally walk no great 
distance in a day, and Hilda was herself not 
strong enough to travel constantly. As long as 
she still had some money, they went on with 
some degree of comfort. She could at least pay 
for their night’s lodging, and they need not suffer 
hunger. But although she now and then met 
with compassionate people, who took them in 
over night, and fed them, without accepting pay- 
ment, the little stock of money gradually melted 
away, and before she had traveled half the dis- 
tance to Gerschowetz her. pocket was empty. 
Not even a half-penny left ! For the remainder 


108 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

of the way there was nothing but to ask charity 
of the people, and beg at the doors of the rich. 

That was very hard for her; but necessity 
compelled her, and for Kurt’s sake, she con- 
quered her aversion. Seldom was her quiet peti- 
tion refused or harshly answered. Most people 
gave her a trifle, and at night she generally found 
some place of shelter, if it was only in the straw 
or hay of a barn. 

However, neither she nor Kurt could long 
stand this way of living. The child broke down 
at last, and grew sick and feverish, and Hilda 
saw the impossibility of still continuing their 
journey to Gerschowetz, where she had hoped to 
find a refuge with the mother of honest Michael 
Dombrowsky. Fortunately they were not far 
from a town when Kurt was taken sick, and 
Hilda carried him thither in her arms. After 
much fatigue and distress she reached its gates, 
and walked unsteadily along the street. 

But what could she do now? Where find 
any one to take her in — the penniless beggar with 


A REFUGE. 


IO9 


a sick child ? She thought she would look for a 
hospital or some charitable institution; but, on 
making inquiries of the passers-by, learned that 
there were no places of that kind in the town. 

A noble, womanly heart can endure and suffer 
much, and such a heart surely beat in Hilda’s 
breast ; but now, as faint, hungry, and exhausted, 
she stood on the snow-covered pavement, without 
money, friends, or shelter, the weeping child in 
her arms complaining pitifully of cold and pain, 
her strength and courage threatened to fail alto- 
gether. 

“ Have pity on us, gracious Father,” she mur- 
mured in dismay, and looked up almost hope- 
lessly to heaven. But the glance upward, to the 
well-spring of all compassion, revived her spirit 
once more. 

“ I must not doubt,” she said to herself. “ God 
leadeth. He will guide my steps to some good 
people. * Knock,’ says the Saviour, * and it shall 
be opened but knock also with faith and confi- 
dence.” 

10 


IO 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


She tried at two or three houses, knocking 
timidly, and entreating a little help for the sick 
child. They gave truly but little; still she re- 
ceived enough to be able to pay for a shelter for 
the night. She looked around, and perceived at 
a street corner a notice of a musical entertain- 
ment. The sight gave her courage. 

“ Singers are here !” she said hopefully to her- 
self. “ Perhaps they will employ me. If they 
would only give me a situation for a few weeks 
till Kurt has recovered, and the hardest of the 
winter is over ! Jonathan always said that I had 
talent. I will go to the manager and see.” 
With reviving spirits she inquired the way to the 
manager’s residence, and found to her agreeable 
surprise, that she was close beside it. 

“ God leadeth,” she said bravely to herself, as 
she mounted the steps and rang the bell. She 
was directed to a room where the manager and 
some gentleman were in earnest conversation. 
Timidly she remained standing in the doorway, 
without being observed by any one ; therefore 


A REFUGE. 


Ill 


she could not help hearing what was spoken in 
the room. 

“ It is a very unfortunate business,” the man- 
ager said angrily. “ Nearly all the tickets are 
sold, and we have an unusually good programme 
that we should faithfully carry out. And now, 
just two hours before the time of commence- 
ment, must you come and tell me that the best 
singer fails me? It is really too bad !” 

One of the gentlemen, apparently the leader, 
shrugged his shoulders. “ I have just seen her,” 
he answered. “ The poor thing is quite hoarse, 
and cannot speak aloud, much less sing. It is 
absolutely impossible. The piece must be given 
up, and something else substituted for it.” 

“ It is out of the question. We cannot get up 
another programme so quickly,” said the man- 
ager in displeasure. “ And even if it were possi- 
ble, the people will be disappointed; they wish 
to hear ‘ Preciosa,’ and, failing that, will demand 
their money back, and we will have no one in 
the hall. It is the worst thing that could 


1 12 


HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 


happen. Any one else could be replaced, but 
no one else can sing Preciosa. Can you find 
me a substitute, leader? Are you able to do 
that?” 

The leader only shrugged his shoulders again, 
in sign of his complete helplessness. Hilda 
stood in the doorway, and listened attentively. 

Preciosa was the name of the piece to be 
sung, and which must be left out, because the 
singer who took the principal part had suddenly 
become hoarse. This she took in breathlessly, 
as though it was said to her especially. How 
often had she herself sung the part of Preciosa ! 
— with but poor surroundings it is true, but for 
all that she was perfect in the words and music, 
and she could hardly restrain herself from walk- 
ing up to the Director, and telling him that she 
was able and willing to act as a substitute for 
the hoarse singer. Yet she lingered, then took 
a few steps forward, and was perceived by the 
manager, who, full of wrath and disappointment, 
walked up and down the room. 


A REFUGE. 


1 13 

“ What do you wish ? What are you doing 
here ? Who sent you ? ” he burst forth. “ Can 
a man not be free from beggars even in his own 
library? Speak, then; tell me what you want.” 

“ Pardon, Herr,” said Hilda gently, “‘a servant 
directed me here. I have heard a part of your 
conversation, and learned from it that you wish a 
substitute for the part of Preciosa.” 

“Well, what then? How does that affect 
you ? ” 

“ I can sing the part well, if you will allow me,” 
said Hilda. 

The manager stared. “Is the girl crazy?” 
he cried out. 

“ No, Herr, I am not crazy, but I have often 
sung Preciosa,” replied Hilda quietly, but with 
confidence. 

“You! Impossible!” returned the manager 
again. 

Certainly the appearance of Hilda gave little 
credit to her statement. Her dress was miserably 
poor and patched, and her face half hidden by a 
* H 


10- 


1 14 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

thick woolen hood ; besides, she still carried 
Kurt in her arms. 

“ Oh, Herr,” she said again, “ I would not 
surely tell you a falsehood that must be discov- 
ered at once. Try me ; indeed, I have very often 
sung the part of Preciosa.” 

“ This is truly something wonderful,” said the 
manager, already softening his tones, and he drew 
nearer to Hilda. 

“ Listen, child ; if this is true, and you will 
sing Preciosa for me to-night, you will find me 
not ungrateful for such unexpected good fortune. 
But it is not possible ! Not possible ! ” 

“Give her a trial,” said the leader, now joining 
in the conversation. “ Here is the piano. Let us 
have the beautiful song of Preciosa when she first 
appears — without notes, of course.” 

“ Certainly ! ” returned Hilda, “ I can sing it for 
you either with an accompaniment or without 
one. 

“Well then, come hither,” and the leader 
placed himself at the piano. 


A REFUGE. 


US 

“A moment’s patience, please,” said Hilda. 
“ This child is sick ; I cannot sing well with him 
in my arms. Will you show me where to lay 
him down ? ” 

“ Oh, put him here on the sofa,” said the wife 
of the manager, who was in the room, and had 
been observing the strange scene with interest. 
“Yes, place the poor little one here. Is it really 
true that you are a singer? If you have not 
promised more than you can fulfill, I will surely 
take care of him. But now be quick — there is no 
time to lose.” 

Hilda put Kurt down gently in a corner of the 
broad sofa, threw off her coarse wrappings, and 
moved with confidence toward the piano. All 
were surprised at her changed appearance. None 
had imagined the shabby coverings could hide 
such a lovely, bright face, and graceful figure. 

“ Now, if you please,” said Hilda, and began after 
a short prelude the song, with a voice clear as sil- 
ver bells. All held their breath to listen, and the 
manager rubbed his hands in a transport of delight. 


Il6 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

“ Bravo ! bravo ! ” he cried out, as the last notes 
softly died away. “ I call that singing ! What is 
your name, my dear child ? ” 

Hilda told him her name. 

“Well then, my dear Hilda,” he continued, 
“ your voice is fine ; I have never heard the song 
better rendered. But are you familiar with the 
words of the whole part ? Do you know them 
perfectly?” Hilda nodded with a smile. “I 
know it,” she replied, “ from beginning to end.” 

“And you have confidence enough to try it 
without having had a rehearsal ? ” 

“ I can do it easily,” said she, “ because I have 
so often taken the part of Preciosa.” 

“ Well, then, if that is true, you are surely a 
great blessing to me,” said the manager. “ Hasten, 
leader ; let us take her over to the hall, and pro- 
vide her with a suitable dress. This is indeed a 
fortunate accident. Let us hasten.” 

“ Do not be too fast, Herr Manager,” returned 
the cooler leader, thoughtfully. “The young 
girl has sung this song beautifully; but is it safe 


A REFUGE. 


ii 7 


to judge from that, that she is perfect in the whole 
piece ? Let us hear some more of it, young lady ; 
any part you wish — it is all the same.” 

Hilda did not hesitate; with her usual courage 
and self-possession she sang from several differ- 
ent parts of the piece, and the leader, too, was 
satisfied. 

“ Good ! ” he said. “ It will certainly do. You 
seem to have a fortunate talent, Fraulein Hilda; 
now quickly to work. Have the goodness to 
accompany us.” 

“ But little Kurt ? ” said Hilda, who never 
forgot the child. 

“ Leave him in my hands,” said the manager's 
wife. “You have come to our relief in a great; 
difficulty, and can count on my gratitude, and 
careful nursing of the child. I will take him to 
my own room, and at once send for a physician.” 

Hilda was content. The wife of the manager 
seemed a kind, motherly woman. She kissed 
Kurt, bade him gently to be quite good while 
she was away, and promised to return as soon as 


Il8 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

possible. Then she was ready to accompany the 
two gentlemen to the Concert Hall. The princi- 
pal parts were hastily rehearsed, and Hilda 
proved again that she had not promised too 
much. All went on smoothly, and leader and 
manager beamed with delight, and were as polite 
and respectful to Hilda as to a queen. 

A suitable dress was found and made ready 
for her, and when she appeared before the 
large audience, she looked so lovely that she 
was received with much applause. This ap- 
plause did not lessen during the concert. Her 
beautiful voice entranced her listeners, and she 
was called back again and again amid a storm 
of clapping hands. 

“You must stay with me,” said the manager 
to her as she returned to his house. “ I cannot 
let you go away, and will gladly pay you a 
salary that only my best singers receive.” 

The manager’s wife and the leader, too, begged 
her to remain; and, although she still shrank 
from appearing before the public, and could 


A REFUGE. 


1 19 

never forget the misery of the old days when 
Jonathan compelled her to go on the stage, 
she looked at Kurt, who lay calmly sleeping on 
a comfortable bed, and determined, for the pres- 
ent at least, to yield to the manager’s wishes. 
She would not bind herself, but agreed to stay 
only on the condition that she might leave when 
she wished. This arrangement was made, but 
with great* unwillingness and many objections 
from the manager and leader, and Hilda found 
herself and Kurt for the present provided for. 


CHAPTER V. 


A GRANDFATHER. 

H ILDA remained in the town till the winter 
was over, and won by her gentle, modest 
manners, as well as by her wonderful talent, the 
favor of the public and the manager, and the 
love and respect of all the singers. The bright, 
sunny-faced maiden fascinated every one, and the 
directors could always count on a crowded house 
when it was known that she would sing. She 
added much to the profits of the manager, who 
would do almost anything for her, and would 
gladly have kept her with him always. 

But when the lovely spring days came, when the 
snow melted, and the warm sun drew the fresh 
young green buds out of shrubs and trees, Hilda 
began to think seriously of her interrupted jour- 
ney to Gerschowetz, and became anxious to set 

out again, that she might discover, if possible, 
( I2ol 


A GRANDFATHER. 


121 


something of her own birth and family. She 
had been very careful to save enough money for 
the journey out of her winter’s earnings, so that 
she need not now fear the distress of the past 
journey. She told the manager of her desire, 
and he admitted with regret that it must be as 
she wished, but begged her to stay just a few 
weeks longer. 

“You must know, dear Hilda, that I am ex- 
pecting a visit from a celebrated artist, who lives 
at the Residence. I would like to have some of 
our best entertainments while he is here, and if 
you leave me now, I shall lose the greatest at- 
traction of my concerts, for I can find no one who 
can well take your place. So stay but a few 
weeks longer, and you will lose nothing by it.” 

The manager had been so good to Hilda that 
she could not refuse this request. She stayed, 
and the next day the expected guest arrived. A 
series of entertainments was given, and Hilda’s 
talent, grace and beauty still drew a large audi- 
ence night after night. 

ii 


122 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

But it was ordered that she too might reap 
some benefit from her self-denial in yielding to 
the wishes of the manager. Unexpectedly 
thereby came to her the information that she had 
so earnestly sought, and at last had given up as 
a fruitless task. This was the news of Kurt’s 
father. 

She took the boy with her one day to the Hall 
to the rehersal, and the pretty child excited im- 
mediately the attention and interest of the stran- 
ger artist. He inquired about him, and Hilda 
told him in a few words the story of the child. 
The stranger listened with lively emotion. 

“ This is wonderful,” he said. “ For more 
than a year I have sought for this child, and 
have even put advertisements relating to him in 
all the newspapers, and by a fortunate accident 
he comes into my path. I knew the father of 
the poor child well, Fraulein Hilda, for he was 
my best friend ; and when he died, he confided 
to my care a little packet of papers, and begged 
me to place them in the hands of his wife, whom 


A GRANDFATHER. 


123 


he had been obliged to leave. The poor Muller 
led a miserable life, and the grief of not being 
able to provide for his wife and child as he 
wished gnawed perpetually at his heart, and 
without doubt hastened his death. Do you 
know the story of his life, Fraulein Hilda?” 

“ No,” she answered, “ I know nothing but 
what I have already told you about the child’s 
mother.” 

“ Well, I will tell you in a few words,” said the 
artist. “ Muller was the son of a noble family. 
Some irresistible inclination led him to the stage. 
His father, a proud, high-spirited, stern man, dis- 
inherited him for this step, and wrote to his son, 
forbidding him ever to come into his sight again. 
Muller hoped perhaps that time would soften the 
anger of his father, but in this he deceived him- 
self. To add to his misfortune, he now married, 
and, of course, without his father’s consent, the 
poor but beautiful Leonora, and by this act 
barred completely every pathway to reconcilia- 
tion. Once he ventured to seek his father, and 


124 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

entreat his pardon ; Tor, to tell the truth, he had 
in the maenwhile learned the misery of a travel- 
ing actor’s life, and longed to free himself from 
it. But the attempt failed. Perhaps if the re- 
pentant son had come alone, and thrown him- 
self at his father’s feet, pardon might have been 
granted. But unfortunately, he brought a wife 
of peasant birth, and would not be separated 
from her. A true heart beat in his breast, 
although he had so recklessly forfeited home 
and family when he went on the stage. His 
father a second time rejected the son, and there 
now remained nothing for him but to join again 
the actor’s troupe, to keep his wife from want. 
The trouble and grief broke both their hearts. 
His wife was first taken sick, and he was obliged 
to leave her and travel with the company. Soon 
after, a hemorrhage ended his life. I went to 
him, and he died in my arms. I was prevented 
for some time from carrying his message to his 
wife, and when at last I was able to reach the 
town in which he had left her, I found that she 


A GRANDFATHER. 


125 


too was deceased. Only a grave was there. I 
inquired for the child, the little Kurt, but no one 
could tell me what had become of him — for who 
troubles himself as to the fate of a poor actor’s 
child ? So I left the place with a sad heart, but 
have carefully preserved the papers entrusted to 
me by poor Muller. I have them at home, and 
will send them to you, Fraulein Hilda, when I 
return to the Residence. You must make what 
use of them you think best for the boy. His 
parentage can be satisfactorily proved, for among 
the papers are the marriage -certificate of his 
father and mother, and the register of the child’s 
birth and baptism. Perhaps if the grandfather 
could see the poor forsaken child, his hard heart 
might soften, and he would give to the little one 
the love that he refused to his only son. Yet I 
would not presume to dictate to you, Fraulein 
Hilda. Act according to your own discretion 
and judgment. You have had already, I fear, a 
heavy burden to bear in the child.” 

“Oh, that is nothing,” said Hilda, much 


126 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

pleased with the information she had received. 
“ I will take the papers, and go with Kurt to his 
grandfather, and beg and entreat him to take the 
child of his son into his fatherly care.” 

“You have not far to go, Fraulein,” said the 
artist. “The grandfather lives here in Silesia; 
he is a wealthy land owner; his name is the 
Baron Semberg. But you will have a hard task, 
I fear; for he hates every one who has had any 
connection with the stage, and would not even 
go to hear a concert. You will not be received 
very kindly by him.” 

“ I will not care for that,” replied Hilda, ear- 
nestly. “ He may treat me with contempt, and 
even turn me out of his house; that will be 
nothing, if he will only give love and kindness 
to little Kurt. I want nothing for myself; I ask 
nothing of him but to listen to me, and to look 
at his grandchild. I will soften his heart with 
my prayers, even if I must kneel at his feet.” 

“ Well, I wish you good luck,” said the artist. 
“ But if he will not listen to you, what then ? ” 


A GRANDFATHER. 


127 

“ Oh, no man could be so hard as to turn 
away such a lovely child, and his own grandson, 
too ! But if such a thing should happen, I will 
keep him with me forever/’ 

“ Y ou have a brave, true heart ; and may the 
good God grant you success ! I can almost 
believe that the stern man will not be able to 
resist your prayers. At any rate, I will send 
you the papers as soon as possible.” 

The artist kept his word. The day following 
his departure the packet arrived with the various 
documents, and now Hilda lost no time in seek- 
ing Kurt’s grandfather. Gerschowetz could wait : 
of herself the faithful girl always thought last. 

When she found herself in possession of all 
the necessary papers, Hilda did not find it hard 
to obtain information of the estate of the old 
Baron Semberg, and hopefully started with Kurt 
on her way thither. 

This time the journey was quickly made, for 
now Hilda had money, and could hire a com- 
fortable carriage to take them. After traveling 


128 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

two days, they reached the Baron’s castle, which 
stood on a hill, with a pretty village spread out 
at its feet. Hilda went first into the village to 
learn what she could of the Baron’s life and 
disposition, and soon drew from a talkative land- 
lady all she wished to know ; but the account 
was not favorable, and her hopes began to sink. 
The old Baron still lived, but in the greatest 
seclusion, and saw no one but those of his own 
household. Lonely and misanthropic, he dwelt 
in the gloomy old castle, surrounded by a few 
faithful servants, who were as unapproachable as 
their master. # 

“ Has the Baron been informed,” asked Hilda, 
“ that his only son, whom he turned from • his 
door, has died in*poverty and distress ? ” 

“ Surely he knows it,” said the landlady, “but 
they say that even his death could not soften the 
heart of the old man towards him. There is a 
report that a letter came to him from the young 
Baron, written on his dying bed, in which he 
entreated grace and compassion for his wife and 


A GRANDFATHER. 


129 


child, but the relentless man tore it up and 
threw the pieces in the fire. I do not know 
though whether that is true or not. But we are 
all very certain that he never has troubled him- 
self about the wife or child. He is a rigid old 
man.” 

“ And still I must go to him, and take Kurt,” 
said Hilda reluctantly to herself. “ Yes, he shall 
learn that his innocent grandchild lives, and per- 
haps God will melt his heart at the sight of the 
child who has harmed no one, and yet is left 
poor, desolate and alone in the world.” 

The next morning Hilda dressed Kurt very 
neatly, and took him by the hand, starting out 
boldly for the castle. It was a dark, heavy- 
looking building, descended from the middle 
ages, with massive round towers and thick walls. 
The large iron gates were closed, but at Hilda’s 
ring an old servant appeared, and inquired her 
business. 

“ I wish to speak to the Baron,” said Hilda. 

“The Herr Baron sees no one except upon 
I 


130 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

very urgent business,” replied the grave-looking 
servant. 

“ My business is of the greatest importance,” 
said Hilda boldly. “ I have brought the Baron 
some valuable papers.” 

The servant measured her with doubtful, sus- 
picious glances. “You! a young girl! And 
valuable papers ! ” he said, more to himself than 
to Hilda. “And what do you with the child 
there ? Why must he come with you ? ” 

“ I will answer all necessary questions to the 
Baron himself,” replied Hilda. “ Please give 
him my message, good friend. I come not 
begging, but bring news over which the gracious 
Baron will surely rejoice — if he has a spark of 
feeling,” she added in her heart. 

The old man still stood irresolute. “ Certainly, 
you do not look like a beggar,” he murmured to 
himself, “ but woe betide me if I let you in ! 
Give me the papers, mademoiselle; I will take 
them to the master ; he then can decide whether 
I let you in or not.” 


A GRANDFATHER. 


“ The papers shall not leave my hands until I 
place them in those of the Baron himself/’ said 
Hilda firmly. “ They are too important. The 
happiness and fortune of perhaps a whole life 
hangs upon them. Say this to your master, and 
he will surely give you orders to admit me.” 

The old man shook his head. “ I will venture 
it, because you insist upon standing here,” he 
said after much thought, and departed with slow 
steps. 

After a long time, which seemed an eternity to 
the waiting Hilda, he returned, carrying a bunch 
of keys in his hand. Hilda breathed more freely. 
She knew now she would be admitted to the 
castle, and new hope sprang up within her heart. 
Once face to face with the Baron, she fully 
believed he could not resist the sight of his fair 
young grandchild, and would surely take him to 
his heart and home. 

“The master has commanded me to let you 
in,” said the old man, as he turned the key 
slowly in the rusty lock. “ I am surprised at it, 


132 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

but he is in a milder mood than usual to-day. 
But before I lead you to him, you must give me 
your name, and wait here until I tell him.” 

Hilda gave him her name, but prudently re- 
served the fact that she had sung in public con- 
certs ; and the servant went away again, leaving 
her standing just within the castle gates. 

As she looked up, she saw a man with iron-gray 
hair and beard and piercing black eyes, that ob- 
served her from one of the windows in the 
building above her. He vanished almost im- 
mediately, and soon the old servant appeared in 
the doorway, and beckoned her to enter. 

“Follow me!” he said shortly, and ascended a 
wide, winding staircase, with sandstone steps, in 
which long years of usage had worn deep hol- 
lows. Hilda followed with a beating heart, for 
the momentary glimpse of the old man at the 
window had not tended to raise her courage. 
He had looked to her stern and forbidding. If 
that was the Baron, she had certainly taken a 
hard task upon herself. 


A GRANDFATHER. 


133 


When the old servant had reached the top of 
the staircase, he turned into a long corridor, and, 
opening a door, bade Hilda enter. 

“The Herr Baron will be with you immedi- 
ately,” he said. 

Hilda entered a spacious apartment ; the door 
closed behind her, and she stood alone with little 
Kurt, who could not comprehend what she 
sought in this gloomy old castle. 

“ It is not very pleasant here, dear Hilda,” said 
the child, clinging closely to her. “ Let us go 
away.” 

“ Patience, Kurt ; patience, my dear little boy,” 
she answered. “ Our coming to this castle is 
more important than you think; and see how 
beautiful is everything around you! Look at 
those lovely pictures in fine gilt frames, and the 
great mirrors on the walls, and the shining armor 
and weapons hanging on the pillars ! ” 

“I do not care for these, Hilda; I am afraid. 
The pictures are all dark and fearful-looking; I 
feel as though they would harm me if you were 


12 


134 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

not with me. Come, let us go away,” said the 
child anxiously. 

“ Oh Kurt, how foolish ! ” said Hilda, smiling. 
“ Pictures are not alive, and can harm no one. 
Only keep quiet and behave prettily, dear boy ; 
soon we shall know what Providence has in store 
for you. But, of course, you cannot understand 
it yet. Whatever happens must be for the best, 
Kurt. We will keep up our courage.” 

Kurt was silent, but shrank still more closely 
to Hilda’s side, and almost covered himself with 
the folds of her dress. As Hilda softly stroked 
his hair, and tried to reassure him, a side door 
opened, and the tall though somewhat bent 
figure of an old man entered. He looked in- 
quiringly from under his white bushy brows at 
the young girl who bowed before him. Hilda 
recognized the stern countenance that she had 
seen watching her from the window as she stood 
in the courtyard. 

“What do you wish of me?” asked the old 
Baron shortly. 


A GRANDFATHER. 1 35 

Hilda was for a moment doubtful how to 
begin. Then she obeyed the first impulse of 
her heart; fell on her knees before the hard- 
looking man, stretched up her clasped hands 
entreatingly, and cried in imploring tones : 
“ Pity, Herr Baron ! Compassion for a poor, 
deserted, unfortunate child ! ” 

A sudden flush colored the brow of the old 
man, and he frowned darkly at these words. 

“ What do you mean ? ” he asked harshly. 
“ Who are you ? Who is that boy ? Answer 
me!” 

“ This boy is Kurt Von Semberg, the son of 
your only child, your little grandson. Oh, have 
you no love for him? Look at these papers, 
Herr; they show without a doubt that the boy is 
truly your grandchild. Will you not be a father 
to the poor orphan ? ” 

There was no reply ; rigid, upright, with flash- 
ing eyes and clenched hands, the old Baron 
stood above Hilda. Suddenly he uttered a gasp- 
ing sound, and turned and left the room, closing 


136 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

the door heavily behind him. Hilda looked 
after him in astonishment, and knew not what 
to think — whether to hope or fear. 


> 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE TEMPTATION. 

H ILDA arose slowly from her knees, and put 
her arms tenderly around Kurt. 

“ Poor child ! ” she sighed, “ I fear that all is 
lost. Your grandfather will not listen to me, 
and he has not given you one glance. It is a 
disappointment; but you will never be quite 
forsaken, as long as I, with God’s help, am able 
to care for you. Your only relative disowns 
you ; then must I even be father, mother, brother 
and sister to you.” 

“ Grandfather ? ” said Kurt. “ That cross old 
man my grandfather, and you wish to leave me 
with him? No, no! I do not like it here. 
Let us go, dear Hilda! Quickly, before that 
wicked-looking man comes back.” 

With a troubled face he pulled at Hilda’s 
dress; but she still lingered, for down in her 
12* (137) 


I38 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

heart there still lurked a hope of a more favora- 
ble result from the interview. 

But the minutes passed away; a quarter, a 
half hour she waited, hoping for the return of 
the Baron — no one came. At last a door 
creaked on its hinges, and through it she per- 
ceived the grim old servant who had admitted 
her to the castle. 

“ Well, I hope you are satisfied,” he said 
harshly. “ The Baron has nearly had a stroke 
in consequence of your shameless news, and 
now I have orders to bid you leave the castle, 
and never let him see your face again.” 

“And the child? Will his grandfather do 
nothing for him ? ” asked Hilda. 

“ He will know nothing of him,” said the ser- 
vant. “And farther, he insists that he shall 
leave the place without delay, and never be 
taught to consider the Herr Baron as a relative, 
or as one upon whom he has the slightest claim. 
There is nothing more for you to do here, made- 
moiselle.” 


THE TEMPTATION. 


139 


Hilda drooped her head sadly. “ Oh, the 
hard-hearted man ! ” she said. “ Come, Kurt. 
And you may inform your master that I, a poor 
girl, will endeavor to fulfill his duty to the cast- 
off child. Tell him that surely one day he must 
render up an account, and his own son will then 
be his accuser. And now let us leave this in- 
hospitable house, before whose sill I would 
shake the dust from my feet. The unnatural 
man never shall see his grandchild again. We 
will leave him to his conscience, that cannot let 
him rest in peace after this day.” 

“ I am glad,” cried Kurt. “ Let us hasten, 
dear Hilda; for if you were not here, I could 
not stay a minute in this place. It is so dark 
and gloomy, it frightens me.” 

He pulled her by the hand, and Hilda delayed 
no longer. She saw plainly that here there was 
no hope for the child. In five minutes they 
stood outside the castle gates, which the old 
servant quickly banged to, and locked behind 
them. Bolt and bar grated on their ears, and 


140 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

the old building lay silent and shadowy, as though 
it held no living thing within its walls. One last 
glance Hilda cast on the blackened towers ; then, 
pressing the boy's hand, she hastened back to 
the village. Within an hour she again entered 
the carriage she had hired, and at evening the 
inhospitable house lay far behind her. 

What next ? 

Hilda thought that now the best thing for her 
to do was to proceed without further delay to 
Gerschowetz, and seek out the mother of honest 
Michael Dombrowsky. Her stock of money 
was more than sufficient to carry them there, 
and once arrived, she would make every effort 
to discover some trace of her own birth and 
family. So, as she approached a road leading in 
the direction of Gerschowetz, she sent the car- 
riage back, and continued the journey by post. 
This was a cheaper mode of conveyance, and 
she wished to use her money sparingly, that she 
might not present herself as a beggar, asking 
the charity of Mother Dombrowsky. 


THE TEMPTATION. 


141 

Several other travelers were packed in the old 
rumbling post-coach. Two of them seemed to 
be country people, who announced in the course 
of the conversation that they were going to 
Posen on business ; the third, a talkative fellow, 
called himself a traveling merchant, and the 
fourth and last wrapped himself closely in his 
cloak, and pulled his fur cap over his eyes, so 
that one could not plainly see his face. Hilda 
observed him but little, as the traveling mer- 
chant with the coolest impudence claimed her 
whole attention. He asked her one question 
after another as to who she was, whither bound, 
and the reason of her journey, and his curiosity 
seemed not to have the slightest limits. Hilda 
answered several questions as reservedly as 
possible, but the importunate man still went on, 
till at last, tired of his incessant questions, she 
leaned back in a corner of the coach and closed 
her eyes, as though she wished to sleep. 

At that time journeys were not made so 
quickly as in the present day; there were no 


142 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

railroads in Poland, and the three strong horses 
drew the coach but slowly over the rough, un- 
even highway. Hilda did not find it disagreea- 
ble compared with her last journey, when she 
was obliged to travel on foot through the world 
in all weathers — in sunshine, rain, snow, or freez- 
ing cold; but Kurt often grew impatient and 
restless, until at last, as it began to grow dark, 
he leaned his head against Hilda’s shoulder and 
fell asleep. In a little while Hilda too began to 
doze, then slumbered soundly, dreaming perhaps 
of her sad past life, or maybe of a brighter, 
happier future, as the heavy coach rolled slowly 
onward. The night had passed when she again 
opened her eyes ; it was day-break, and she was 
not a little astonished to find herself and Kurt 
alone in the coach with the stranger in the fur 
cap. 

“ The other travelers left about midnight,” said 
the stranger, as he perceived her surprise. “ You 
must have slept very soundly, not to have heard 
them.” 


THE TEMPTATION. 


143 


“Yes, very soundly,” said Hilda, and looked 
out of the window, to avoid further conversation. 
Soon little Kurt awakened, and she busied her- 
self with him, forgetting entirely the presence of 
their fellow-traveler. But in spite of this, the 
stranger observed them attentively, especially the 
boy, on whom his eyes rested continually. 

“ A pretty child,” he began again, “ but still a 
heavy burden for you, as I learned from your 
conversation with the traveling merchant yester- 
day. You should try to find a home for him 
somewhere. Many people would be glad to have 
him for his beauty.” 

“ I will not part with him,” said Hilda, shortly, 
and drew Kurt closer to her side. 

The stranger muttered to himself a few words 
that she could not understand, and leaned back 
again in his corner, for he saw that Hilda did not 
wish to keep up the conversation. 

An hour later, the coach reached a station 
where the horses were changed, and the passen- 
gers might breakfast if they wished. Hilda and 


144 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

Kurt descended from the coach, and bought some 
milk and bread, which they ate, talking cheerfully 
to each other, till the sound of the horn an- 
nounced that it was time to start again. Then 
Hilda looked for the bag in which she had placed 
her money, but could not find it. “ It must be 
lying in the coach,” she thought, and hastened to 
look there for it. But it was not in the coach, 
and its disappearance filled her with the greatest 
anxiety. 

“ Some one must have taken it ? ” she cried. 
“ Where is my purse ? ” 

The stranger, who stood near, seeing that 
something was wrong, asked the cause of her 
trouble, and accompanied her to the waiting-room 
to make another search for the missing bag. 
The landlord and servants of the house came and 
assisted in the search, but the bag was not found. 

“ And I have not a penny besides what was in 
it. Nothing with which to pay for my break- 
fast,” cried Hilda through her tears. “ Misfortune 
seems to follow me even here.” 


THE TEMPTATION. 


145 


The landlady looked at her suspiciously. 
“ Who knows, mademoiselle, whether you really 
had a bag with money in it ? But I have noth- 
ing to do with that ; pay for your breakfast and 
go ; the coach will not wait forever.” 

Poor Hilda wrung her hands and wept. Only 
the stranger cast a kindly glance upon her. 

“ I saw with my own eyes,” he said, “that this 
young lady yesterday paid for herself and for the 
child, and put her purse in the bag which she 
brought into the coach with her. Since then it 
must have been stolen ; there were three other 
passengers in the coach, who left it at the last 
station. The theft must have been committed by 
one of them, or by myself. I beg that my satchel 
be searched, that I may be cleared of suspicion. 
As for the others, I fear they must escape with 
their ill-gotten prize.” 

“ All this is nothing to me,” said the woman 
insolently. “The breakfast must be paid for, 
and until it is, neither you nor the child shall go 
one step farther on your journey.” 

13 K 


I46 * HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

“ Very well, then, I will pay the trifling sum,” 
said the stranger, taking out his purse; but 
Hilda held him back. 

“ No, I thank you,” she said with dignity. 
“ Take this ring,” she said to the landlady ; “ it is 
of gold, and worth at least twenty times your 
demand.” 

The woman would have taken the ring with- 
out further parley and put it in her pocket, but 
the stranger again interfered. “ Not so fast, my 
friend,” he said ; “ either you must pay the 
young lady the value of the ring over your 
debt, or I will buy it from her myself, and she 
then can pay you what belongs to you, and no 
more.” 

The woman was obliged to agree to this just 
arrangement ; the stranger paid the value of the 
ring, and Hilda received several dollars after her 
claim was settled with the greedy landlady. 
Then came the question ; what had she best do 
next ? 

“ It will be useless for you to go back, and 


THE TEMPTATION. 


147 


attempt to find the thief,” said the stranger. 
“Those rascals will not wait for you, but are 
doubtless already over the mountains. You 
would only lose time and money by trying to 
follow them. You had better go on as far as 
you have paid your way in the coach, and per- 
haps something may turn up to your advantage 
before you reach the end of the journey.” 

Hilda saw that the stranger was right, and 
that there was nothing for her to do but follow 
his advice. So she again entered the coach, and 
went on with a heavy heart. She had paid for 
the greater part of the journey, but that would 
leave her still ten or twelve miles to cross on 
foot before she could reach the little town of 
Gerschowetz. But this was the least part of her 
trouble. Her heart sank when she thought that 
she must come to Frau Dombrowsky with 
empty hands, and ask for her hospitality without 
a penny in her pocket. This weighed on her 
mind, and brought the tears to her eyes. The 
stranger let her quietly weep, but when her tears 
ceased to fall, he spoke to her again. 


I48 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

“ Well, young lady,” he said, “ it is very hard 
that you should suffer this loss, and I perceive 
that it grieves you; still, all may yet turn out 
well. How much money have you lost?” 

“ There were over eighty dollars in the bag.” 

“Yes, yes; that is a great deal of money, es- 
pecially if it is all that you possess,” said the 
stranger. “Now listen to me; the little one 
there is fortunately asleep, and I can speak 
openly to you. Know then, that I am a rope- 
dancer, and belong to a company now in Posen. 
I have just made a journey in search of a pretty 
child to exhibit in some of my feats. In vain 
have I tried in various places to find one to suit 
my purpose, and am now returning after a fruit- 
less search. Accident placed you yesterday in 
my path. I listened to your conversation with 
the traveling merchant, who is probably nothing 
more than an adventurer, and I understand that 
you have taken this child only out of compas- 
sion ; so I propose to buy him of you. I need 
just such a handsome face and figure as his, and 


THE TEMPTATION. 


149 


will pay you well for him. You cannot but 
admit that he is a burden to you, and you may 
be glad to be spared the trouble of further 
caring for him ; besides the relief of his mainte- 
nance, you will receive a considerable sum of 
money. Therefore, let us consider it an agree- 
ment, as you will not make a better one.” 

“ Never, sir ; never ! ” answered Hilda indig- 
nantly. “Am I a trader in human souls, that 
you dare to make me such a proposition? Be- 
cause we are friendless, have we no feeling? 
No, sir; I will not let the boy go from me.” 

“ Do not decide too hastily,” urged the man. 
“ Only think that such a chance as this may 
never come to you again. It will also be best 
for the poor child. If he grows skillful in the 
profession, of which there is little doubt, he will 
some day earn much money; and I will take 
good care of him, and let him want for nothing 
to make him comfortable and contented, for it 
will be to my own advantage that he always 
appears at his best. I could do nothing with a 


150 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

sickly, disagreeable child. I want one with a 
bright, healthy, pretty and cheerful face, such as 
this boy has. You had better make the agree- 
ment ; it is best for both you and him.” 

“No more ! ” Hilda interrupted decidedly. 
“ He shall not leave me ; we will share together 
what God has ordained for us.” 

“ But hear first, my dear young lady, what I 
will give you for the boy,” continued the man. 
“Eighty dollars have been stolen from you. I 
offer you double that sum — triple, then! You 
will not? Well, then, what do you say to five 
hundred dollars ? That is a capital with which 
you can lay the foundation of a fortune.” 

“ I could never become happy with the weight 
of. such a wicked action on my conscience,” said 
Hilda unmoved. “Not for ten times that; not 
for a thousand-fold would I sell little Kurt. Sell 
him! What kind of a heart do you think I 
have ? To give up the poor child to a training 
of torture and pain, that he may learn things 
that have often made me shudder! Oh, no! 


THE TEMPTATION. 


151 

Would any mother sell you her child? Cer- 
tainly not ! And I love this child as a mother. 
Let us drop the subject, I pray you. Kurt and 
I will never be separated, unless his own rela- 
tives have power to take him from me.” 

Hilda remained firm in her resolution, al- 
though the rope-dancer tried hard to change her 
decision, holding his offer before her eyes, and 
painting the life of his company as the most 
delightful in the world. She was heartily glad 
when they at last reached the point where she 
must leave the coach, for she would much rather 
travel on foot alone with Kurt, then listen to the 
conversation of the rope-dancer, who seemed to 
think that her refusal of his- offer was only a pre- 
text to raise the price he would give for the boy. 

With a lighter heart than she had expected, 
she began again her journey over the highway. 
The air was mild, the skies blue, the meadows 
green, and the sun shone brightly over the earth. 

“ God leadeth,” she murmured. “ He will 
guide us into a safe haven at last.” 


CHAPTER VII. 

AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 

H ILDA wandered on and on; as though she 
could find no rest in the world. Kurt kept 
bravely up with her, for the weather was fine, and 
•the few dollars she had received for her ring 
enabled her to procure the necessary shelter and 
refreshment. On the fifth day of the journey, she 
beheld at last, in the distance, the towers of Ger- 
schowetz, and pointed them out to her little 
companion. 

“ Look, Kurt,” she said, “ yonder where that 
green roof shines in the sun, we will at length, I 
hope, find a resting-place. If Frau Dombrowsky 
is as good as her son Michael, she will certainly 
receive us kindly. Keep up your spirits, dear 
child. In one hour more, we will reach the town.” 

“ Oh, I am quite strong, and not at all tired,” 
replied the boy. “ Let us walk faster. Go as 
quickly as you please ; I can keep up with you.” 
(152) 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 


53 


The sun still shone high in the heavens as they 
walked through the ancient gate of the little 
town, into its narrow streets. 

Hilda inquired for the residence of Frau Dom- 
browsky, and was after several useless questions 
cheerfully directed aright. She passed along 
the streets, and soon beheld the little house in 
which she had lived with her old nurse Dorothy : 
she paused before it — it looked so familiar and 
home-like. There was the same old-fashioned 
doorway, with its dark, beautifully carved wood- 
work ; there the little window with the blossom- 
ing gillyflower before it ; and she could not be 
mistaken. This was the house to which she had 
been directed as the residence of Frau Dom- 
browsky. She had surely been sent here. She 
recalled the merry games which she had played 
on the square in front of the house, and how 
when she had grown too wild, the old Dorothy 
would utter a word of caution from the little 
open window. 

“ It is very strange,” she said to herself. “ I 


154 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

have been led back to the same little house where 
I lived with Dorothy, and which I left with so 
sad a heart.” 

She thought this a good omen, and walked 
bravely through the gate and up to the open 
door. All was just the same as it lived in her 
remembrance. She saw the entrance to the little 
bed-room where she had slept with Dorothy; 
and further back the kitchen. She knocked on 
the door ; once, twice, and yet again : no one 
answered. 

“ Perhaps she is in the kitchen,” she thought, 
and stepped in still holding Kurt by the hand. 
She felt as much at home in the little house as 
though she had left it only a few weeks before. 

She opened the kitchen-door softly. An old 
woman simply but neatly dressed sat by the 
hearth, so busily engaged with her sewing that 
she did not perceive Hilda, who stood for a min- 
ute in the doorway and observed her. 

“ She has a good, kind face,” said Hilda to her- 
self. “ I feel as if I could trust her from my 
heart.” 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 


155 


“ Little mother ! ” she said aloud. 

The woman raised her head from her work, 
and looking up with clear blue eyes, still un- 
dimmed by age, saw Hilda and Kurt. 

“ Who seeks me here in my loneliness ? ” she 
said. “ What has brought you to me, children ? 
Have you really come to see old Mother Dom- 
browsky ? ” 

“ To you surely, and no one else,” said Hilda. 
“And we bring you greetings from your son 
Michael.” 

“From Michael, my dear son?” cried the old 
woman with delight, and dropped her work upon 
the floor. “ Then I know you already. Y ou are 
Hilda, and this is little Kurt! You are heartily 
welcome. May the dear God bless your in- 
coming ! ” 

With these words she stood up and stretched 
out both her hands towards her guests. 

“ Yes, yes,” she said, after she had observed 
Hilda attentively. “ I thought you would look 
so, child — so bright, so lovely and true-hearted. I 


156 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

know your story already, for Michael wrote me a 
long letter telling me how he found you, and 
that he had advised you to come hither ; and 
ever since I have wondered why you staid 
away so long. But now you are here at last, 
and must remain as long as my little cottage 
pleases you. I have long been ready for you ; 
your bed-room is prepared, for Michael has im- 
pressed it upon me to take you in and treat you 
even as I would himself. I do it willingly from 
my own heart, for you must be a worthy maiden, 
and it will give the old woman much delight to 
have your bright young faces near her. Come 
then, let me take you to your room.” 

She moved about quite briskly, in spite of her 
age, and Hilda followed her, too much touched 
by her kindness to be able to speak. She had 
not looked for such a reception as this, and tears 
of happiness stood in her eyes as she entered the 
cheerful bed-room that had been prepared for 
her and Kurt. It was pure and clean, and quite 
simple. The bed was spread with a snowy 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 


157 


coverlet; table, chairs and bureau were scoured 
as white as the shining floor that glistened with 
fine sand, and dainty-looking curtains hung 
before the windows. 

“ Oh, how lovely and delicious it is here ! ” 
cried Hilda. “You are too good to us, dear 
Frau Dombrowsky.” 

“ I am glad you like it, my child/’ said the old 
woman, “ for then you will be content to stay 
with me. But we are not strangers to one 
another; I knew well the good old Dorothy, 
your nurse, and you, too, when you were so 
young that you cannot remember. So let me 
hear you call me Mother ; it will please my old 
heart. Everything came back to my mind when 
I received Michael’s letter concerning you. 
Now make yourselves comfortable and at home, 
and I will bring you some refreshments ; you 
must be tired and hungry.” 

With these words she left the room with a 
quick step, and Hilda, overcome with happy 
emotion, burst into tears, and fell upon her 


158 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

knees, offering thanks unto God, and praying 
him to bless the good people who had prepared 
this kindly shelter for the homeless ones. Kurt 
stood near, looking at her quite anxiously, and 
could not understand why his dear Hilda should 
' cry. 

“Why do you weep, dear, dear Hilda?” he 
said, stroking her wet cheeks with his little 
hands. “ You frighten me.” 

“ Oh, do not be afraid Kurt,” she answered. 
“ You must be glad with all your heart that the 
good God has led us hither. We have found a 
refuge at last, Kurt; a home. We need not 
wander around the world any longer. The kind 
Frau Dombrowsky is like a mother to us both. 
Oh, how thankful I am for the meeting with 
Michael, on that day that seemed to me so fright- 
ful, and yet was for us so full of future happiness ! 
Surely we have found that God is w r ith us every- 
where, and when we seem most desolate and 
forsaken, he is still leading us in his own paths.” 

Frau Dombrowsky soon returned with bread, 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 1 59 

butter and milk, and Hilda was surprised at the 
quickness of her movements. 

“ What troubles you, child ? ” she asked. Hilda 
sprang up and threw her arms around her. 

“ Not trouble, only happiness and thankfulness it 
is that makes me cry,” she said ; “ I will love ancf 
honor and bless you, my whole life long, dear 
mother.” 

“ Be calm, child, be quiet,” returned the worthy 
woman. “ You are heartily welcome to me in 
my loneliness, and a comfort in my old age. I 
have missed my Michael much, since he went out 
into the world, and it seems now that the Lord 
has sent you purposely to make pleasant the 
evening of my life. Now rest you, child. Here 
is something to eat and drink ; not much surely, 
but willingly given, and it will refresh you both.” 

They ate and drank till they were satisfied 
Hilda had never in her life felt so happy as now, 
in this simple little cottage where she received 
nothing but love and kindness. Kurt laughed 
and chattered, and was soon as much at home as 


160 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

though he had lived all his life with Mother 
Dombrowsky ; but as it grew dark, his eyelids 
began to droop, and Hilda undressed him and 
put him in the clean white bed, where he stretched 
out his limbs luxuriously, and had scarcely fin- 
ished saying his short prayer before he was 
sound asleep. 

“ Now, my child,” said Frau Dombrowsky to 
Hilda, “ now that the little one sleeps, we can 
have a quiet talk together. It is settled, of 
course, that your home shall always be with me, 
unless a better one is opened to you. If you 
have any plans for your future life, let me hear 
them : but always be sure that though I have 
not much goods in this world, yet, through 
Michael's care, I have enough for you and the 
child and myself. But I know, too, from 
Michael’s letter, your circumstances, and what 
you would learn in this town. Years ago, while 
Dorothy yet lived, I thought there was some 
secret connected with your birth. It was a pity 
that she died so suddenly, without by a look or 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 


1 6 


word leaving any clue to the mystery. How 
shall we now learn who your parents were, and 
whether they are living or dead ? I fear it will be 
difficult to obtain information of them, my child.” 

“ Yes, I know that well,” answered Hilda, 
“ and I have not counted on success ; but I will 
make all the inquiries and searches in my power, 
and leave the result in God’s hands. If he wills 
that the secret of the past shall be discovered, he 
also will find ways and means to reveal it. But 
if not, then must I bow to his higher 'wisdom 
and judgment, and yield up my desire to raise 
the veil that rests over my early childhood. I 
am young and healthy, mother ; I can work, and 
by my own industry earn the little that is neces- 
sary for Kurt and myself. It is a happy fortune 
for me that you have so kindly taken us in, and 
I can never express to you my gratitude for it. 
I feel as though at last I really had a home, and 
a friend; and on such a foundation surely, with 
God’s help, we may build up a peaceful, quiet 
life.” 

14* L 


1 62 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

“ That is right, Hilda, quite right,” nodded the 
good old woman, well pleased. “ I am rejoiced 
that you have not let your ideas soar too high in 
regard to this mystery, and have not encouraged 
hopes that might be disappointed. I have 
thought of you many times since Michael’s letter 
came, and silently but watchfully I have sought 
and listened that I might somewhere find a clue 
which we could follow up ; but as yet all that 
concerns your birth is hidden in darkness and 
obscurity, and I cannot see one gleam of light. 
If only Dorothy still lived, and could speak ! 
But, alas, she is dead, and I fear all that we wish 
to know is buried with her. I firmly believe, 
child, that you do not belong to the lower 
classes ; but it is of no use to speculate over that, 
if we cannot bring the truth out of it. I know 
well that fourteen or fifteen years ago, strange 
and wicked things happened in Poland, and many 
rich and noble families were either extirpated or 
driven from the country ; it could easily happen 
that you belong to one of those families, for the 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 1 63 

old Dorothy did not come from this part of the 
world — of that I am certain. But now all the old 
stories are vague and indistinct. Grass has grown 
over them, and it would be hard work to dig 
through all the rubbish and reach the true founda- 
tion. However, you must do what seems best to 
you, and the dear God will decide the rest. God 
leadeth, and whatever may happen shall be accord- 
ing to his will. One can find happiness and con- 
tentment even in poverty — the happiness of a peace- 
ful conscience. That will we seek, dear child, and, 
having found it, need trouble ourselves no further. 

“And now tell me how you have prospered 
since my Michael left you, and why you have 
been so long on the way?” 

Hilda related her experience since parting 
with Michael, its fortunes and misfortunes, and 
Frau Dombrowsky listened attentively. 

“ Yes, yes, things happen strangely in the 
world,” she said ; “ but, child, since you have 
been so successful as a singer, will you not again 
wish to go on the stage ? ” 


164 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

“ No, mother, surely not, if you will let me 
stay with you ; I do not enjoy the life, and al- 
ways shrink from appearing before the public. I 
long for a quiet, peaceful home, where I can pro- 
vide for Kurt and myself by my own industry. 
To outsiders it looks very bright and beautiful 
upon the stage ; but I have never found happi- 
ness there, and to Kurt’s poor father it brought 
but misery and grief. No, I would far rather 
stay with you.” 

“That is right, quite right. I see you are 
brave, honest and true, my child;” and the old 
woman nodded her head, well pleased. “ In my 
opinion a young girl should stay at home; and if 
you can only sew and embroider, work will not 
fail you. I know a great many people here in 
the town who will readily employ you on my 
recommendation.” 

This promise the good woman fulfilled. Hilda, 
although but little accustomed to needlework, 
worked so industriously, and displayed such 
good taste, that she soon obtained as much as 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 


165 


she could accomplish. She earned enough to 
keep herself and Kurt from being a burden to 
Frau Dombrowsky. The quiet, natural and 
restful life she now led, after her many days of 
wandering, raised her spirits, and she was quite 
happy and contented. 

Little Kurt, too, soon showed the benefit of 
the change ; he grew prettier and brighter each 
day, and became Mother Dombrowsky’s darling, 
as well as Hilda’s. 

“ I cannot understand how his grandfather 
could turn away from him,” said the old woman 
often to Hilda, as they watched the merry child 
playing on the square in front of the house. 
“ One would think he might be thankful to God 
for giving him such a lovely child, instead of 
sending him from him. Well, Kurt will not 
trouble himself about it, at any rate.” 

Sometimes they talked of Hilda’s old nurse, 
Dorothy, whose memory Hilda still kept lovingly 
in her heart. 

“I know she died very suddenly,” said Frau 


1 66 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

Dombrowsky, “ and it was very hard for you 
then ; but I was so poor myself at the time, that 
I could do nothing for you. My Michael was 
not then in a position to care for his old mother, 
as he does now. But my heart bled when I saw 
you sent out into the world with the strange man. 
When you left, the house stood bare and empty, 
and I moved into it, because I could have it for a 
very low rent. I did not find much left of poor 
Dorothy’s property ; the officers had taken away 
everything of any value. Only a little old chest, 
with some toys and pieces of patch-work, stood 
forgotten in a corner of the kitchen. I found 
there was nothing of much account in it, and 
carried it up into the garret with other trumpery. 
Since then I have not thought of it.” 

“ Do you not think we had better look into 
the chest ?” asked Hilda, lightly. 

“ Oh, you would find nothing in it, dear child,” 
said the woman. “ It stands over behind the 
chimney. If there had been anything of value in 
it, I would have made use of it before now.” 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 


167 


Hilda agreed with the old mother, and thought 
no more of the chest, but went upstairs to her 
room, singing happily to herself. 

About two weeks after this, little Kurt, wander- 
ing idly about the house, was seized with the 
desire to look out upon the world from the 
windows in the garret; and without speaking to 
any one about it, stole up there by himself, and 
tumbled about in the dust and cobwebs for an 
hour or two. When he appeared before Hilda 
again, he looked so dirty from head to foot that 
she was frightened. 

“ Where have you been, Kurt ? ” she said to 
him. “ Have you fallen down in the dirt, that 
you look so black ? What would Mother Dom- 
browsky say, to see such a dirty little boy in her 
clean house ? Come here quickly, and let me 
brush your clothes, and wash your face and 
hands.” • . 

Kurt came, laughing merrily. “I have been 
up in the garret, dear Hilda,” he said, “ and it is 
veiy dusty up there. It is no wonder my clothes 


1 68 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

are soiled. But see what I have found ! A little 
book, with pretty pictures in it.” 

He held it up as he spoke to Hilda. It was 
only an old, well-worn little book, with a cover 
that had once been black, but was now from 
dust and age quite gray, so that one could 
scarcely distinguish the gilt cross upon it. 

Hilda leaned forward, and seized the book 
eagerly. “ Oh, I remember it,” she cried ex- 
citedly. “ How often has my dear Dorothy read 
to me from it ! It is her prayer-book, and there 
are many beautiful prayers in it. Where did 
you find it, Kurt ? ” 

“ In a little old chest, over behind the chim- 
ney,” answered the boy. “ It fell out as I 
knocked the chest, and as it opened I saw the 
pretty pictures in it, and brought it down to you.” 

“I am glad you found it, Kurt; it is a dear 
keepsake from my old nurse. She read much 
in it just before she died. Let me keep it, Kurt ! 
I will take care of it, and will show you the pic- 
tures as often as you wish.” 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 


169 


“ Yes, keep it,” said Kurt, “ and here is some- 
thing that belongs to it, too ; it is a funny book, 
Hilda. See what a thick cover it has ! I tried 
to bend it, and found another cover inside of this 
one, only thinner, and hard v like iron ; look at it, 
Hilda. It sprang out so quickly that it almost 
frightened me, and this paper fell out. I brought 
them to show you, and here they are. Isn’t it a 
strange kind of a book ? ” 

“Wonderful!” said Hilda to herself. “I do 
not understand this double cover. But let me 
see.” 

She took the papers from the child and cast a 
hastly glance over them, while an expression of 
the greatest amazement came into her face. A 
cry of astonishment broke from her lips, which 
brought Frau Dombrowsky hastily in from the 
kitchen, where she was busy. 

“ What has happened, my dear child ? ” she 
asked as she looked at Hilda, who was pale and 
trembling. “You frightened me. What is the 

matter?” 

r 5 


170 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

“Do not be alarmed,” said Hilda, making an 
effort to recover herself. “ It is nothing bad, 
dear mother. Only Kurt has found writings in 
this old prayer-book which seem to have refer- 
ence to my parentage.” 

“Is it possible that it is God’s, will that the 
past should be revealed?” said Frau Dombrow- 
sky, hardly less surprised than Hilda herself 
“ Show them to me ! What do they say ? ” 

“ Here are some certificates ; marriage and 
baptism certificates, and some pages written by 
Dorothy herself, as I can see at a hasty glance. 
And the papers are plainly addressed to me.” 

“ Then read on, child ; read further,” urged 
Frau Dombrowsky. “I have never in my life 
been so surprised as I am at this minute.” 

Hilda hesitated; it seemed as if she almost 
feared the revelation that the papers would 
make. But in a few moments she raised her 
head, and said firmly, “Yes, we will read them. 
God has brought them out of the past into the 
light, and given them into my hands through 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. IJ l 

Kurt. I know it is the working of a divine 
Providence, and whatever the discovery may be, 
I must receive it with calmness and faith.” 

She came and stood beside Frau Dombrow- 
sky at the window. Kurt was sent out to play, 
that they might be undisturbed, and Hilda un- 
folded the written pages which should disclose 
the story of her early life. In a low but clear 
voice she read as follows : 

“My Dear Hilda: When this writing meets 
your eyes, I shall be no longer among the living. 
But I must fulfill a sacred duty, and write down 
that which will assist you once more to your 
true name and rightful property. You are too 
young to understand me if I should tell you 
now, therefore it is important to write it down 
that it may not be forgotten. If you live to 
grow up, and I am still with you, then will I 
repeat to you, and make every effort to legally 
prove these facts, that must have an influence 
over your whole future life. But if I die, and 
death may suddenly overtake me, then it will be 


172 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

at least with the peaceful consciousness of hav- 
ing, as far as it was in my power, fulfilled my 
duty to you and your parents. So read these 
lines, knowing that they are the full and solemn 
truth. 

“ Your father was the Count Radziejewsky, a 
wealthy nobleman, who owned large properties 
in the neighborhood of Warsaw, and possessed 
a magnificent palace in Warsaw — your mother, 
born Countess Walewska, a noble lady, whom I 
served faithfully many years. I had lost my 
husband and a little daughter shortly after your 
birth, and your mother, knowing my fidelity and 
devotion to your whole family, chose me as your 
nurse. 

“You had two brothers, Stanislaus and Joseph, 
the younger fourteen years older than yourself; 
and you soon became the darling of the whole 
family, especially of your mother, who with in- 
describable tenderness hung over her ‘ little late 
rose,’ as she fondly called you. We resided then 
in Warsaw, for the Frau Countess feared that if 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 


173 


we lived out of town a physician could not be 
summoned quickly enough in case of sickness 
attacking y*ou. Besides, those were times of 
wild excitement, and the Frau Countess felt the 
capital to be the place of greatest security. 

“ Several years passed ; your mother and I did 
not trouble ourselves about what was happen- 
ing abroad, for we found our entire happiness in 
caring for you. You were a brighter, more 
beautiful child than any I have ever seen. The 
Herr Count and his sons were passionately in- 
terested in the excitement that threatened to 
overthrow the whole country. It came at last 
to war with Russia. Poland had been so torn 
and trodden down with tyranny that they dared 
to throw off the yoke which the Fatherland had 
made so heavy. Kosciusko raised his standard, 
and troops poured in to aid him from all sides. 
Your father and brothers were among the fore- 
most, although the Countess with prayers and 
tears begged them to remain at home. ‘The 
Fatherland shall give us freedom!’ was the an- 


174 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

swer, as they left for the combat. Through 
what fearful days we lived then ! With anxiety 
we waited daily for news from the * battle-field. 
At first the Polish troops were victorious, but 
soon fortune turned against them, and one defeat 
followed another. Your brothers fell on the field 
of Mariejowice, and your father returned wounded 
from the battle-field, and hardly reached his pal- 
ace before he was seized with a dreadful fever 
which threatened to end his life. The Frau 
Countess never left his bed-side. Thus at once 
we realized suddenly all the horrors of the war. 
The Russians stormed Prague, and pressed with 
victorious troops into Warsaw. I know only 
vaguely of the horrible deeds that took place 
there. I had no time to think of other sufferers 
and unfortunates, we were so pressed at home. 

“One frightful day broke over us there. A 
wild, drunken crowd pressed with loud shouts 
and brandished weapons into the palace, knocked 
down and trampled on the faithful servants who 
tried to resist them, and spread themselves, plun- 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 


175 


dering and destroying, over the place. The Herr 
Count lay dying on his bed, and could not pro- 
tect us. The Countess knelt in prayer beside 
him. With you in my arms, I stood trembling 
in an adjoining room. We had bolted and 
barred the doors, and hoped the crowd, satisfied 
with plunder and destruction, would soon leave 
the palace, when heavy blows sounded upon, the 
doors ; they cracked, and in another moment 
were violently burst open, and the roaring, rag- 
ing crowd of madmen rushed into the chamber 
of the sick- Count. With a shriek of despair 
that will forever ring in my ears, the Countess 
placed herself with outspread arms before the 
bed of her husband. Dazzled by her appear- 
ance, for one moment the throng stood still ; 
then suddenly a shot struck her in the breast, 
and she sank to the floor. With the fury of 
wild animals they then fell upon the Count ; ten 
strokes pierced through his body, and a sabre 
cut split open his head. Shuddering, I beheld 
the frightful scene from the next room; my 


176 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

heart was broken with grief and terror. Then 
I thought of you, poor child ! If they saw you, 
what would prevent them from sacrificing your 
innocent life to their fury? At any price you 
must be saved: and this idea brought back the 
strength to my feet, that seemed glued to the 
floor. Still were the dreadful men at their 
bloodshed by the bed of the Count. I softly 
closed the door, seized a little chest, which I 
knew contained important family papers, and 
fled away. Through many a room now deserted 
I hastened, shaking with fear, and succeeded in 
avoiding the infuriated mob, for there was 
nothing left for them to destroy or carry off. 
I reached unseen at last a secret passage, which 
led us to a place of security. In a sheltered 
spot we stayed several* weeks in hiding. Only 
at night I left our place of concealment, and 
went in search of provisions ; and crept in fear 
and trembling through the deserted chambers, 
where once so much happiness, luxury and love 
had reigned. 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. I // 

“ But I knew we could not stay here, and that I 
must make some plan of escape. Flight — flight 
into another country — was my only thought. 
I still trembled for your safety. I feared if they 
discovered you they would put you to death, or 
cast you into prison. My mind, confused with 
horrors, saw nothing but frightful pictures — 
nothing but scenes of blood and murder. What 
should I do ? — how get away ? After much 
thought I determined to dress as a beggar, and 
as such wander with you through the country. 
People surely do not often molest the poor 
beggars. So I managed to arrange a shabby- 
looking set of clothes for you and myself, and 
concealed under them the family papers and the 
few valuables which I had been able to rescue 
from the general destruction. I left the palace 
with you at night. No obstacles stood in the 
way. All the doors and gates were either de- 
stroyed or stood wide open. Several dogs had 
made themselves comfortable in the lower apart- 
ments, and barked at us as we passed them. 

M 


178 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

Otherwise the place was still and silent as the 
grave. As I had hoped and expected, no one 
troubled themselves about us, two miserable- 
looking beggars. Without question or deten- 
tion, we reached the suburbs, and now I turned 
to the right, towards the German border. It was 
a long, weary journey, but I found many kind 
country people who would sometimes carry us 
for miles in their wagons, and others who gave 
us a night’s lodging, or a breakfast or supper. 
And although many may have guessed that we 
were refugees, we were allowed to go on our 
way; and, for the first time in many days, I 
began to breathe freely. 

“ Everything else was lost, but you at least, my 
dear nursling, were saved. That thought gave 
me strength to go on. I consecrated the re- 
mainder of my life to you, and left all else in the 
hands of the merciful God above, who rules the 
destinies of his children as a wise and tender 
Father. I did not wish to travel too far from 
the border of your native land, for I still cher- 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 1 79 

ished the hope that you would some day return 
to it, and take possession of your large and 
powerful inheritance there. Therefore I stayed 
in the little town of Gerschowetz, and God has 
enabled me to keep want and suffering away 
from your dear head. May he protect us still 
further, and restore you at last to your home 
and rights ! 

“ In the secret inner cover of the prayer-book, 
which I will show you when it is time, you will 
find all the necessary legal papers relating to 
your birth. The certificates, which I fortunately 
saved from destruction, prove undoubtedly that 
you are the Countess Hilda Sophia Radziejew- 
ska; and if justice and right again triumph, then 
must you certainly take possession of the rich 
inheritance of your unfortunate parents. That 
heaven will help you, poor lonely orphan child, 
is the earnest prayer of your faithful, loving 
Anna Dorothy Januschka.” 

Here the writing ended, and with tears in her 
eyes, speechless and grieved, Hilda laid it on the 


180 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

table. Her heart was full. The sad fate of her 
parents had deeply moved her, and she thought 
only of them in this moment. 

Frau Dombrowsky too was silent, thinking 
over the great discovery. 

“ Well,” she said at last, “ I am not really very 
much surprised at this revelation, for I ‘have 
always thought the mystery was something of 
that kind. You are surely a Countess, and a 
very wealthy Countess, as Dorothy has written ; 
and the only question is whether your powerful 
name and your rightful claim can be carried into 
effect.” 

“ Oh, mother, I cannot think of that yet,” said 
Hilda. “ Truly I -have the right to bear my 
parents’ name, and would be quite satisfied if 
they would restore to me as much of the family 
property as would repay your goodness, love 
and faithfulness, if such things ever could be 
repaid — but I doubt very much that this will 
happen.” 

“ No one can tell, my child ; we do not know,” 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 1 8 I 

said Frau Dombrowsky. “ Since that wild time, 
things have become very different in Poland ; and 
who knows ? — if the case is legally commenced, 
surely the voice of justice and truth must have 
power. If the papers are all in order, and if it 
can be proved that Count Radziejewska really 
was your father we will at least make the attempt.” 

Hilda looked through the papers, and found 
everything in perfect form. The papers were 
witnessed and signed by a lawyer in Gerschowetz, 
in which Frau Dorothy declared on oath, that 
her foster-child, Hilda, was the legitimate daugh- 
ter and only living child of the deceased Count 
Clement Radziejewska, of Warsaw, and his wife, 
Countess Hilda Walewsha. 

“ Now, that must be all correct,” said Frau 
Dombrowsky. “We women do not understand 
much of business ; but I know a lawyer, an 
honest, skillful man, for whom I did washing 
some years ago. I will go to him, and lay the 
matter before him. What he advises, child, we 
will do, for he will surely tell us what is best.” 


1 82 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

Hilda agreed willingly to this proposition, 
although she hoped little from these steps. It 
seemed to her quite impossible that she, the 
poor homeless waif, the charity child of her 
nurse, the traveling singer, the penniless beggar, 
could ever be raised to the position of a rich and 
noble Countess. 

But Frau Dombrowsky set to work resolutely, 
and without delay ; she dressed herself, and took 
the various documents, and gave them herself to 
the son of the lawyer. She remained away 
some time, but when at length she returned, her 
good honest countenance Beamed with delight, 
and she clasped Hilda warmly in her arms. 

“All goes well,” she said. “ Herr Lavenburg 
is coming to see you himself, and he will give 
you only favorable reports. I sincerely hope 
you will come into your rights, my child : then 
you will be a noble, wealthy lady. You have 
honestly deserved it, if it were only for your good- 
ness to the little fellow there. And how won- 
derfully it happens! Without Kurt, the secret 


AN OLD PRAYER-BOOK. 


183 


might still have been lying hidden in the little 
old chest. Who could have guessed that the 
shabby prayer-book could make such surprising 
disclosures? We might never have discovered 
it, and only the child playing on the floor must 
find the prayer-book, and even the secret pocket. 
Truly, it was an especial providence of God. He 
leadeth all to work out his wise purposes, and 
has made the boy, to whom you have been so 
good, become the instrument of your fortune. 
For I doubt not that this great fortune will fall 
into your hands.” 

“As it pleases God,” said Hilda humbly. “I 
have trusted him in poverty and distress, and 
have always found strength and faith in answer 
to my prayers. I will believe still further that 
he will lead me into the paths that he deems 
best. If I must still remain poor, yet am I now 
happy; and if riches come to me, I will strive 
with his grace to worthily employ them.” 

“Amen, dear child, amen !” said Frau Dom- 
browsky devoutly. “ Truly you deserve that 


184 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

fortune shall fall to your share in this world. 
But in that world which knows no rank and 
earthly treasure, you will surely be blessed with 
an everlasting blessedness ! ” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“ I WILL REPAY,” SAITH THE LORD. 

T HE same day, a few hours later, the advocate 
sought the little house of Frau Dombrowsky, 
and greeted Hilda as reverentially as though she 
were already in actual possession of her inherit- 
ance. He was a pleasant, kindly man, with an 
open countenance, and keen eyes which seemed 
accustomed to look through all things to the 
foundation. “ My dear Fraulein,” he said to 
Hilda, “ your claims to the name and estates of 
your deceased parents are without doubt valid. 
These papers agree with each other, as the 
members of a closely-linked chain, and what 
information is still wanting, can without trouble 
be obtained. Only one thing is lacking, and 
that is surely very necessary — miserable money ; 
without this it is difficult to make good a claim 
so distant as the property of your family in 
Poland. Do you possess nothing of value that 
(185) 


1 86 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

we can turn into money ? Or have you a friend 
who feels interest enough in you to lend you the 
sum? His money would be perfectly safe, for 
with the assistance of a couple of thousand 
dollars, we could without difficulty establish your 
claim to an estate worth much more than a hun- 
dred times that. Think, Fraulein.” 

Hilda shook her head with a faint smile. “ A 
couple of thousand dollars! what a sum!” she 
said. “ I have not a friend who could lend me 
the tenth of that.” 

“ That is bad,” said the lawyer, “ And I am 
not rich enough to help you, or I would gladly 
do so ; my practice is only sufficient to provide 
for my household. However, we must see what 
can be done. The affair is too important to be 
easily dropped. We must make every effort to 
succeed in a case on which so much depends. I 
will look about myself. Perhaps if we can con- 
vince one of the certainty of the claim and its 
success, some business man might be induced to 
venture the sum. We must see; we must see. 


“I WILL REPAY,” SAITH THE LORD. 1 87 

At any rate, I will first write to a colleague in 
Warsaw, and get his opinion of it. He may be 
able to advise me as to what steps to take. 
Money, money, pitiful money, where shall we 
find you ?” 

“ If things were as they should be,” here put 
in Frau Dombrowsky, “ money would not be 
wanting.” 

“ How so, Frau ; how so ? ” asked the lawyer. 

“Well, then,” said the woman, “do you- see 
that little fellow?” pointing to Kurt, who was 
bounding about in the square with his ball. 
“ His grandfather is a wealthy man, and if he 
had but a spark of feeling, he would be ready to 
encase our Hilda in fine gold. But alas ! money 
is thrown away there.” 

“ The boy — what is he to the Fraulein here ? ” 
asked the lawyer. 

Hilda wished Frau Dombrowsky to say no 
more of her kindness to Kurt; but the old 
woman would not be silent. She related the 
whole story of Hilda and the child, and the 


1 88 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

lawyer listened sympathetically. As the name 
of the Baron Semberg was mentioned he opened 
his lips, and seemed about to interrupt the 
narrative; but he restrained himself, and let her 
proceed with the story. Then he arose, and 
walked up and down the room in much excite- 
ment. “ Here indeed is God’s finger,” he cried. 
“ Fraulein Hilda, can you prove that this boy is 
the grandchild of the old Baron Semberg ? ” 

“ Certainly ; I have all the necessary papers to 
confirm it,” replied Hilda. 

“ I pray you show them to me.” 

Hilda took the packet from a drawer in her 
bureau, and handed it to the lawyer, who ex- 
amined the papers with the closest scrutiny. 
As he did so his eyes shone brighter and 
brighter, and at last he cried out delightedly: 
“ It is enough. Fraulein Hilda I have good 
news to impart to you, and this will also have an 
important influence on the development of your 
own affairs. Look at the little one out there, to 
whom you have been a mother. He is no 


“I WILL REPAY,” SAITH THE LORD. 1 89 

longer a little waif dependent on the charity of 
others; for his grandfather has been dead for 
some time, and has left no other heirs than this 
child of his only son. To him, therefore, de- 
scends the whole of his grandfather’s property, 
and I think it will not be a hard matter to 
borrow from this inheritance the little sum that 
is necessary to firmly establish your own rights. 
The strictest guardian would not be able to re- 
fuse you, the tender, faithful friend and protect- 
ress of the boy, this small and reasonable 
amount. Wonderful ! we cannot help seeing 
how wisely God rules the destinies of his chil- 
dren.” 

Hilda and Frau Dombrowsky sat speechless 
and staring at this information, which opened a 
way out of the difficulty. They were utterly 
astonished. 

“ But how do you know all this to be true ? ” 
at length .stammered Hilda. 

“ That is easily explained, my dear Fraulein,” 
answered the lawyer. “ I read it in the Gazette ; 


I9O HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

for six weeks an advertisement has appeared in 
its columns, in which the young lady who 
brought the child to his grandfather is requested 
to come forward or to send her address to the 
trustees of the estate of the Baron Semberg. 
The sudden death of the old Baron, and a de- 
scription of the child and the young girl, I read 
in the papers. In several other newspapers the 
same advertisement has appeared, but none of us 
guessed that it was you, Fraulein, whom they 
sought. Probably you do not read the papers, 
and so. it happened quite simply and naturally 
that this should be your first intimation of little 
Kurt’s good fortune. Wonderfully has God 
woven together the threads of your destinies ! 
Wonderfully has he led you into a path of light ! 
Without your faithful, self-sacrificing love, the 
boy would perhaps never have reached this in- 
heritance, and in return the child is made the 
instrument by which you also are restored to 
name and fortune. Who will not acknowledge 
God’s finger here, must indeed wilfully shut his 
eyes to the divine mercy.” 


“I WILL REPAY,” SAITH THE LORD. I9I 

“Yes, truly,” cried the good Frau Dombrow- 
sky, clasping Hilda in her arms. “ Be happy, 
my dear child! God is rewarding you as you 
deserve; even if your hopes be not fulfilled in 
Poland, there is surely a home for your nursling. 
This is very fortunate for you and Kurt.” 

“ Is it possible ? Can it be really true ? ” 
asked Hilda, completely overwhelmed with the 
important news crowded so fast upon her. “ I 
can scarcely believe that these things will really 
happen.” 

“ Take my word for it,” said the lawyer, “ and 
for the rest I will send you the Gazette con- 
taining the notice. There is no mistake about 
it. I am sure in this case. Now, the next ques- 
tion is, what shall we do first? Let me have 
these papers that relate to Kurt, my dear Frau- 
lein ; I will have them copied, and will keep you 
advised of my movements. It will be necessary 
for the court to appoint a guardian for Kurt, and 
I know that, in consideration of all the circum- 
stances, they will not attempt to separate you 


192 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

and the child. You seem to belong to each 
other. There will be nothing of especial im- 
portance beside this. I will write to my partner 
in Warsaw, and doubt not that affairs will very 
soon be brought to a satisfactory termination. 
Accept my hearty good wishes, Fraulein ; I 
rejoice that heaven has so surely and abundantly 
rewarded virtue.” 

“ Oh no,” said Hilda earnestly. “ It is not a 
reward ; only gracious and undeserved goodness 
from our kind Father! I am deeply grateful 
that he has provided for little Kurt. Whatever 
happens to me, I shall still be so happy over the 
child’s good fortune that I am more than re- 
warded for all that my feeble strength has been 
able to do for him. It has been indeed but 
little.” 

“ You will soon hear from me again, Fraulein, 
and good news, I hope,” said the lawyer as he 
took up his hat. “ The way appears to be 
favorably opened, and should any obstacles even 
now show themselves, we will find means to 


“ I WILL REPAY,” SAITH THE LORD. I 93 

# 

overcome them. Meanwhile, I will without delay 
employ myself in your interest.” 

He went, and left Hilda alone with Frau 
Dombrowsky ; both were much agitated by the 
sudden clearing up of the hitherto dark and im- 
penetrable mystery, and it was some time before 
they recovered their usual composure. Hilda 
seemed more pleased at Kurt’s good fortune 
than over the prospects that had been opened to 
her. 

“ Not yet,” she said, as Frau Dombrowsky 
congratulated her. “ I cannot rejoice over it yet. 
The story of the frightful death of my poor 
parents, whom I cannot remember, has deeply 
grieved me. Can wealth and rank really make 
one happy ? What is it to me that I come into 
possession of their property without their dear 
love and guidance ? I would give it all up wil- 
lingly if I could restore them to life. But that is 
impossible, and I must submit patiently to the 
will of God, and be thankful for the mercy that 

has bestowed upon us so many comforts and 
1 7 N 


194 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

blessings. I will still be Kurt’s loving sister. 
The dear child ! He plays on in the sand, all 
unconscious of the gifts that God has showered 
upon him. Come hither, Kurt ; come to me, my 
child!” 

The merry boy came bounding towards her, 
for Hilda’s voice always possessed a charm for 
him beyond everything else. “ What shall I do 
for you, dear Hilda?” he asked, looking lov- 
ingly up into her face. 

“ Y ou shall listen, my dear boy, to what the 
good God has done for you,” answered Hilda. 
“You are no longer a poor boy, Kurt, but are 
rich, and in the future will live in the beautiful 
castle where we sought your grandfather.” 

“ I will not stay there, Hilda; I will not live in 
that castle. I do not care to be rich ; I would 
rather stay with you always,” answered the boy 
excitedly, and clung fast to Hilda’s arm. “ If I 
have you, I am rich enough.” 

“ Well, then I will go with you,” said Hilda, 
smiling down on him. 


“I WILL REPAY,” SAITH THE LORD. 1 95 

“ Oh yes, then I will go to the castle,” cried 
Kurt warmly. 

“ And you will be able to do much good with 
your wealth, dear Kurt. You can make poor 
children, and poor men and women, and sick 
people who have no money, happy and com- 
fortable. Would you not gladly be rich to do 
that?” 

“ Oh yes, dear Hilda, I will do anything you 
wish,” answered the boy, smiling happily again, 
now that the danger of being separated from his 
beloved Hilda was over. 

“Then, dear, try to use your inheritance for 
the good of the poor, the weak, and the op- 
pressed. That will be the best thank-offering 
you can bring to God for his great goodness.” 

“ Yes, I will, dear Hilda,” said the boy. “ But 
you must help me ; will you not ? ” 

“Yes, indeed I will,” said Hilda; “and God 
grant that we may never grow weary of doing 
good, and deserving his grace.” 

In about two weeks news came from Poland 


I96 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

and Silesia, which the lawyer hastened to impart 
to Hilda. 

“ In Kurt’s affairs everything is in legal order,” 
he said ; “ his claims are acknowledged, and the 
guardian appointed by the court has consented 
that he shall remain with you, Fraulein. An 
ample sum yearly has been provided for his 
maintenance and education, which you will re- 
ceive through my hands, as you wish it. Natur- 
ally, we will first attend to his wardrobe and 
board, and other things we can think of later. 
So this is very clear and simple ; but I do not 
understand the letter which I have just received 
from my partner in Warsaw. He writes me 
thus: ‘You will soon receive verbal information. 
I pray you, have patience for only a few days.’ 
Whether my friend means to come here himself, 
or to send some one, I cannot comprehend.” 

“ We must patiently wait,” said Hilda. “ I am 
glad that Kurt’s affairs are settled. He can now 
have a good education. The thought of this has 
given mejnuch anxiety. Now I am freed from 


“ I WILL REPAY,” SAITH THE LORD. 1 97 

that care, and my heart is light. I can easily 
wait for what concerns me.” 

Several more days passed without bringing 
further news from Warsaw. One afternoon a 
handsome traveling carriage, drawn by four 
horses, drew up before the little cottage of Frau 
Dombrowsky, and that worthy woman perceived 
with astonishment her old friend the lawyer 
spring out, and then carefully assist an elderly 
lady to alight. Her gentle, high-bred counte- 
nance still bore traces of great "beauty, and 
Hilda, who sat by the window with her sewing, 
felt her heart beat violently as she looked at the 
sweet face. The door stood open ; the lady en- 
tered hastily, and her glance sought Hilda with 
an expression of infinite love. Tears flowed 
from her eyes; she opened her arms, and in a 
broken voice cried: “My child, my daughter; 
come to the heart of your happy mother ! ” 

Like lightning the truth flashed into Hilda’s 
mind. This was her mother; she lived. She 
had come to seek her child. She loved her 
17* 


igS HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

child. Hilda swayed helplessly in the chair; 
but only for a moment. With a great effort she 
recovered herself. 

“My mother!” she cried in a tone of inde- 
scribable rapture, and felt herself clasped in her 
mother’s arms, and received her kisses on lips 
and cheeks and brow. She raised her head and 
they looked into each other’s faces and smiled, 
and then wept in the first excess of joy. 

Later, came questions and explanations. The 
mother lived, and yet Dorothy had seen her fall, 
bathed in blood. But her wound had not been a 
fatal one, and she lay on the floor in a swoon, 
until a faithful servant, stealing back after the mob 
had left, had found her and borne her away to an 
humble cottage, where he and his wife nursed her 
through a long sickness ; but her life since had 
been passed in the deepest sadness. She believed 
her child dead, and also her faithful Dorothy, for 
she could discover no trace of either. The most 
careful search had been made, but no clue could 
be found; and after every possible effort proved 


“ I WILL REPAY,” SAITH THE LORD. 1 99 

fruitless, the poor mother at last yielded to her 
fate, and for many years mourned the loss of her 
daughter, and refused to be comforted. 

By a state decree, the Countess had since then 
received her estates, but the restored wealth could 
not fill up the emptiness of her heart, or drive 
away her grief. Lonely and sorrowful she lived 
in the palace at Warsaw, until on one never-to- 
be-forgotten joyful day she received tidings that 
her child still lived. She could not doubt, for the 
faithful old Dorothy’s letter made all clear. In- 
stantly she gave orders to prepare for a journey, 
but the sudden joy had been too much for her 
frail strength to bear. 

“ I broke down,” she said in relating the story, 
“ and it was several days before I could recover 
sufficient strength to bear the journey ; then, rest- 
less and impatient, I traveled day and night until 
I found you, my darling child, and this hour of 
meeting has swallowed up all the bitterness of 
the past sad days. Oh, my child, I can never 
thank God enough for the happiness he has given 
me in finding you again.” 


200 HILDA, OR GOD LEADETH. 

It would be vain to attempt to describe Hilda’s 
happiness. She was repaid for all her faithful- 
ness, for all she too had suffered. And a rich 
reward was hers. God had repaid her a thousand- 
fold for her self-sacrificing kindness to little Kurt. 
She had been a mother to him; and, behold, 
through him God had restored her own mother. 
Her heart had not longed for rank or wealth, but 
for a mother’s love ; and with an overflowing ten- 
derness it came to her, a blessed foretaste of a 
joyous, peaceful future. 

She was happy, and happy would she render 
all who had shown kindness to her when she, 
poor and friendless, a homeless waif, had wan- 
dered abroad in the world. 

She would not be separated from Kurt nor from 
the worthy Frau Dombrowsky, and she begged 
permission from Kurt’s guardian to oversee his 
education ; So they lived as a united family, now 
in Poland, now in Silesia; and many were the 
blessings which Hilda with full hands scattered 
around her. The honest Michael Dombrowsky 


“I WILL REPAY,” SAITH THE LORD. 201 

became the master of her stables, and lived with 
his mother in a little cottage on the estate. Frau 
Kinsky received, quite unexpectedly, a handsome 
present and a grateful letter from Hilda, which she 
kept among her dearest treasures. Hilda sought 
in vain for information of Jonathan. The vague 
reports that came to her about him told a story 
of poverty and distress. She forgave him all the 
wrongs of former days, and would gladly have 
assisted him had it been in her power. 

We have reached the end, and we leave Hilda 
in the sunshine of a happy life, still trusting in 
God’s wisdom and love. Let us too have faith, 
dear friends, for he leadeth us also through shadow 
and light, as a kind Father who knoweth what is 
best for his children. 


THE END. 











































































































































































































































































































































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